


The Epic Highs and Lows of High School Volleyball

by writingwithmolls



Series: Slapshots and Spikes [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Sports, F/F, F/M, I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS, M/M, Multi, Trigger warnings at beginning of chapters, Volleyball, black eagles - Freeform, dorothea has so many hands I fucking promise you, god i'm going to need a serious title at some point, half of them SUCK at volleyball, hopefully I will remember to update these as I go!, nonbinary!Bernadetta, nonbinary!Byleth, none of them are straight, polyam!Dorothea, will be adapting to modern au so bear with me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23977762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingwithmolls/pseuds/writingwithmolls
Summary: Alternatively titled "More than half of them cannot play volleyball"After an unfortunate incident involving the Garreg Mach High School's Boys' Volleyball team, Edelgard is left without a sport for her senior year. If her and Hubert get together a team of ten students, they will be awarded a coach.Unfortunately for Edelgard, she didn't fully consider the consequences of barely scraping up ten players. None of them can be considered good, but will they be able to take their team to finals?--Well, they can't, but they do try their absolute best and embrace their new family found within their team.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Bernadetta von Varley, Dorothea Arnault/Bernadetta von Varley, Dorothea Arnault/Constance von Nuvelle, Dorothea Arnault/Edelgard von Hresvelg, Dorothea Arnault/Edelgard von Hrsesvelg/Constance von Nuvelle, Edelgard von Hresvelg/Constance von Nuvelle, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Series: Slapshots and Spikes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1821181
Comments: 66
Kudos: 62





	1. Recruitment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I am Ferdinand von Aegir,” he said proudly. “I’m a senior and I play as the outside—”
> 
> “Sorry, hon, I didn’t quite catch your name,” the girl from her last gym class—Dorothea—said from the back, a smug smile gracing her lips. She winked at Edelgard, twirling the end of her braid.
> 
> “I am Ferdinand von Aegir,” he repeated.
> 
> “How’s the first part pronounced?” Dorothea asked again and was about to get away with it before Hubert interrupted.
> 
> “Enough.”
> 
> A new school year dawns on Garreg Mach High School with promises of ne opportunities. While Edelgard and Hubert struggle to form a volleyball team, they find a hodgepodge group of students who are willing to join them on the court.

“You’re Dorothea Arnault, correct?” Hubert approached the piano where she was sitting, chatting away with friends from the theater club. It was during lunchtime, and she was helping the club with prop designs. September 1st had come quickly to Garreg Mach High School and it would be Dorothea’s last first-day before graduating. The four years were beginning to feel like a whirlwind as college and future careers stared at her with greedy eyes.

“Depends who’s asking?” Dorothea turned, looking at the man dressed almost entirely in black. He looked tired, likely lacking sleep. She could place him immediately from gym class, remembering his dreary attire and threatening aura that their classmates had come to fear. “Awh, it’s Edelgard’s lost puppy.”

“That’s very nice.” Hubert frowned. “Now, I have a request.”

“I’m very much a lesbian, thank you.”

“Unrelated.” Hubert pressed at his temples and Dorothea smiled that she had managed to bring out any sort of reaction from the stoic man. She had only completed her goal a couple of times during their shared class, undoubtedly making her way onto his hit list by the end of the year. “We are attempting to revive the volleyball team at this school and in order to do so, we need ten members.”

“And…?” She rested her chin on her hands, enjoying the situation.

“We only have four members.” Hubert growled. “Edelgard said your performance in gym class was promising.”

“Oh, _Edelgard_ said these things about me?” Dorothea continued to tease the request out of Hubert, although it did surprise her that she had caught her eye. Edelgard von Hresvelg: captain of the volleyball team, the swim team, and varsity track. The girl was in her gym class the prior year and it was hard to forget her. She was small, but strong and terribly determined to the point of occasional bad sportsmanship… but she was also beautiful.

“She did,” Hubert sighed, “so if you would be so kind as to fill out the form.”

“Now let’s pull the brakes on this.” Dorothea held her hand up. “I’m a part of the theatre club and we have a show this semester and next. Although I _could_ handle both—” she could tell that Hubert didn’t like the look on her face “—we are always _quite_ short for the spring production. It will be _Hamlet_ and I think you will be just _perfect_.”

“I am not doing any production.” Hubert crossed his arms.

“And I’m not doing any sportsball.” Dorothea shrugged.

Dorothea laughed to herself as Hubert stood his ground, clearly trying to find a way out. She couldn’t tell why _she_ was at the top of his recruitment list, but it was clearly a do or die situation. Dorothea wasn’t kidding when she said that he was Edelgard’s lost puppy; he seemingly did her bidding without question.

“We need ten people,” he said again.

“And I need a Hamlet,” Dorothea countered. “Look. Edelgard is a sweetheart, but I can’t just leave my club to struggle. Besides, this is the spring show I'm talking about… unless you would prefer the fall musical?”

“Fine. I’ll do the spring production—but sign the paper.”

Dorothea smiled when she knew she had won. She signed the paper with a flourish: _Dorothea Arnault_. She admittedly did not know _anything_ about volleyball, but it couldn’t hurt. It was strange that Edelgard was forming a co-ed team. She had heard rumors of the varsity boys’ team being cut due to too many injuries, but she wondered if the girls’ had been affected in the same way. If so, the volleyball team made sense. Edelgard lived and breathed the sport, it would be a shame for her not to play.

“Thank you,” Hubert said and was about to leave when another person hopped down from the stage and briskly made her way towards them.

“Were you requesting aid for Edelgard von Hresvelg?” she asked, her usual stage dramatics never quite disappearing _off_ of the stage.

“Yes,” Hubert said, impatient. Dorothea smiled. Oh, this could be _so_ much fun.

“Well, put me down,” she said, flipping her short bob of blonde hair, “Constance von Nuvelle!”

“I think you can write it yourself.” Hubert shuffled his stack of papers, shoving a new form into the girl’s hands. Constance signed her name elegantly and Dorothea laughed.

“Like playing volleyball, Constance?” she asked the enthusiastic girl. It was refreshing to see her animated over something. There were some days where her mental health had gotten so bad that she wouldn’t even go outside to see the sunlight, but then there were the days where she still blossomed like the flower she was meant to be.

“I happen to have never played it outside of gym class, but how difficult could it be?” Her eyes were sparkling.

“How excited will Edelgard be when you have members who have never played competitive volleyball?” Dorothea teased. She could see this going absolutely nowhere, but now it was exciting. “I might have a third, if you really need it.”

“That would be lovely. Please bring them to the meeting.” Hubert clicked his pen. He handed Dorothea an extra sign up sheet. “Good day.”

“Bye bye, Hubie.” Dorothea waved with a wink as the man sighed once more. She turned to Constance. “So, Edelgard, huh? I think she’s quite a beauty, myself.”

“You mustn’t jump to conclusions,” Constance insisted, her cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink that made Dorothea’s own heart flutter. The feeling always came when she entertained the idea of a crush being attracted to the same person as her. “The name is familiar to me. My parents worked for the Hresvelg Corporation.”

Instead of continuing the conversation, she turned away from the piano and took off back towards the stage. Dorothea didn’t try to force the information out of her, instead just humming to herself and texting Bernie to come for a visit.

Constance had lost both of her parents and her brother in a car crash at the end of the last school year. She had been set to graduate, but she seemingly disappeared from Garreg Mach to grieve and stopped handing in any work. She didn’t drop out, but it tanked her grades enough that she couldn’t pass and her name was skipped at the graduation ceremony.

Dorothea played a few keys on the piano to the same tune that she was humming. She had grown up without parents, so she knew a part of Constance’s pain. Dorothea found her phone number and called her over the summer, urging her to take a part in the drama club if she planned to finish high school. Apparently, Constance wasn’t planning on returning until that call. She had moved in with some friends, but it took her out of the school district. Dorothea helped her move into her own place and a friendship grew from there. She was a highlight of Dorothea’s life and she had a hard time believing that they would have never met otherwise.

“Dorothea.” Bernie tapped her shoulder, snapping her away from the piano. “Classes went okay?”

“It was nice to see people,” Dorothea said with a smile, stealing a kiss from her partner. It was nice to be able to do so in front of the drama club, considering that neither of them were out at home. They were both in… complicated situations, but they could steal the moments of happiness elsewhere. “What do you think of volleyball?”

“Volleyball?” Bernie furrowed her brows. She was wearing one of Dorothea’s sweatshirts, which was too big on her, the sleeves running right over her hands.

“I just joined the team and I was wondering if you would also like to join.” She didn't beat around the subject, knowing that Bern would be reluctant. “It could be lots of fun and you would get to know new people!”

“I don’t really know how to play volleyball,” Bernie said, taking the sheet and looking it over. “And getting to know new people sounds _terrible_.”

“So far, a fifth of the team doesn’t know how to play, we can learn together!” Dorothea smiled. “Just think about it? I think it needs to be by the end of the day, though.”

“Can I think about it until then?”

“Of course. I did want to let you know that a girl that I’m interested in is also joining,” Dorothea said, deciding it would be best to be upfront with Bern. She was always honest about her attraction to others; she never wanted her partner to think she was going behind her back. Dorothea looked towards the stage where Constance was entertaining a couple of new freshman recruits.

“That’s okay, thanks for letting me know.” Bernie smiled, still looking at the sign up sheet, pondering over it as if it were life or death. “I met your girlfriend while you were together.”

“Just wanted to tell you. It can be a bit different when it’s not an established relationship, you know?” Dorothea kissed her cheek, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and looking at the form. “It will be fun. You might get to know new people.”

“I don’t like doing that,” Bernie repeated.

“ _I know_ , but it’s nice being part of a team,” Dorothea promised. “Think about it?”

* * *

Hubert had two choices.

The first would be not getting enough people to join the volleyball club, which meant that Edelgard would be disappointed in him.

The second would be letting Flayn join, effectively leaving him to get murdered by the vice principal of his school for endangering his daughter.

With very little hesitation, Hubert selected the second option.

“We’re meeting after school, so you will need transportation home that isn’t the bus,” he reminded the freshman, who was looking at him with sparkling eyes.

“How old do you think I am? Five years old?” Flayn frowned as she crossed her arms. She had the same green hair as her father, falling in thick ringlets around her face. She was dressed in a blouse that looked to be old fashioned, like she was a porcelain doll being stood up in a display window. Hubert wasn’t convinced that she would be able to survive being hit by a volleyball, but it was her problem and not his.

“Yes,” Hubert said, but he handed her the sign up sheet. She took it quickly, signing her name while barely reading the content. It was the last period of the day and this was his last resort: the freshmen gym class. He was pretty sure that on the other side of the gym were sophomores, but he had already exhausted most of his options. He hated being in the gym while the other students were in there, none of them knew how to be quiet and it was impossible to nurse a complete thought before it could get cut off by a screaming teenager.

Hubert kept his eyes peeled until another one of the freshmen caught his attention. There was a girl in the corner of the gym was playing soccer against the wall. Gym classes didn’t properly start the first day, so most of the freshmen were grouped on the bleachers, trying to make friends. It was their insistent chatting that filled the room—reuniting with old friends from middle school and finding new ones that came from the different districts. All of them were expressing their fears of starting anew while trying to find new groups to hang out with.

Except for this girl.

She had her hair tied up into a thick braid and was hitting the wall with an insane amount of force when she kicked the soccer ball. Every time it slammed off of a mat, she trapped it with accuracy, leaving no room for it to bounce away.

“You’re not listening to me,” Flayn said, doing her best to hand Hubert the piece of paper back. He grabbed the paper, adding it back to his stack before immediately stalking towards the freshman, coming up behind her despite Flayn’s protests of being ignored.

“What is your name?”

He apparently scared the girl, who missed the ball that she had just kicked. It ricocheted off of the wall and slammed into Hubert’s side. He grunted at the force and did his best not to be annoyed at the freshman for what she had done, the ball rolling away.

“You have my apologies.” The girl’s eyes widened. “My name is Petra Macneary.”

“It is fine,” Hubert muttered. He knew that there would be a bruise. “I am Hubert. Would you be interested in a volleyball team? My friend is trying to start a team at the school and you would be a valuable asset.”

“Are exchange students have allow—be allowed?” Petra asked, correcting herself mid sentence. That would account for her accent and strange way of speaking, but it was nowhere near bad for a young girl. If anything, she sounded much more eloquent than most of gremlins around them.

“I don’t see why not.” Hubert already had the freshman signing the paper before he could even mention that they would be meeting for the first time in about half an hour.

“What is the volleyball?” Petra asked as she handed the paper back. “I don’t recognize the word.”

“It’s the sport with the net in the middle. You hit the ball back and forth on teams,” Hubert explained, hoping that would be good enough.

“Understood,” Petra nodded.

He let her be, walking over to the sophomore class’s side of the gym and taking a seat on the bleachers.

If Dorothea had managed to get the extra player, it would bring them up to nine. He groaned when he realized he was short one. He had spent all day getting signatures for Edelgard. The morning was solely tracking down every member of the disbanded boys’ volleyball team. He had only managed to get two of them, the rest not wanting to tempt fate.

Edelgard wanted it so badly and he was worried he wouldn’t be able to help. It was his best friend’s senior year and she wouldn’t have a team to belong to. After the boys’ volleyball team incident of the prior year, none of the girls had returned except for Edelgard. Their only loophole would be this team—and he was missing one signature.

Next to him on the bench was a boy curled up, using his backpack as a pillow. Hubert could use a nap, himself. He didn’t attend any of his classes, instead ambushing every possible option he had for the volleyball team. Hubert was exhausted and not sure if there was anything else he could do. He texted Edelgard:

“Any luck at all on your end?”

The response was almost immediate:

“None.”

He looked over the sheets, trying to figure out some sort of last-ditch effort. Printing out twenty had been optimistic, clearly. He entered all the numbers and names from the forms, adding them to a group text and sending out information for what classroom they would meet in once the bell had rang. The sooner they would be able to confirm the amount, the better. It was the only way the vice principle would give them a coach, which was needed for them to continue the club.

The boy next to him shifted.

It was nearing the end of the day, so Hubert shook him awake.

The sophomore with green hair yawned, barely glancing up at Hubert before closing his eyes again. “What do you want?”

“You have to sign this, it’s for class,” Hubert said with renewed urgency he shoved a pen into his hand. Half asleep, the boy signed his name just as the bell rang.

“Come with me, I’ll drive you home after.” Hubert yanked him up. He was much taller than he had expected, which by all means was good for a volleyball team. He followed without much complaint, still yawning as Hubert tugged him through the crowds of students rushing towards the busses, bustling with first day energy.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be dragging someone,” Edelgard said as he approached her locker. She was putting books back in, shouldering her backpack. Her hair was tied back with a lilac ribbon that matched her eyes. There was hope shining in them and Hubert still feared that it would be crushed. “What’s your name?”

“Why did you bring me here?” the boy asked, still not very aware of his surroundings. Or, he was and just didn’t care enough to argue.

“Volleyball meeting, you signed the paper to join the team,” Hubert said, using his free hand to check the sheet he had signed. “It’s Li… Lin—I can’t read this.”

“Linhardt.” He yawned.

“His name is Linhardt,” Hubert clarified to a skeptical Edelgard. “We might have enough people, barely.” He was still counting on Dorothea bringing an extra person.

“Hopefully,” Edelgard said. She closed her locker, her sweater dangling from her arms. “Ready to go to the classroom, then?”

The two walked side-by-side in the hall as they dragged Linhardt behind them. Even some of the seniors that they had shared classes with in the past four years would duck out of their way. He was sure it had nothing to do with Edelgard—she was one of the top athletes in the school and gained the attention of many of the students—but rather his looming presence that never left her side. Hubert never understood why it was such a big deal, considering that so many of the other girls in his grade would walk around in their own groups that never left one another alone. Nonetheless, he could only stand taller as the students got out of their way, all heading towards the fields instead of the classrooms.

“Do you think we’ll have enough?” Edelgard asked once more. Even though he could tell that there was doubt in her voice, it could only be heard with trained ears. The crowds were already thinning and he could see a couple of the newly recruited members already lingering outside of the door.

“I believe we will have enough,” Hubert said, but he didn’t want to promise anything. Without hesitation, they entered the classroom as he said a prayer under his breath.

* * *

“Thank you all for signing up, we don’t have a coach just yet—the school said they would hire someone once we had an official club—so I think for today we’re just going to do group introductions.” Edelgard stood at the front of the classroom, looking over the group that Hubert had managed to collect, trying not to show her… disappointment. Out of every member of the disbanded boys’ volleyball team, the one she wanted the _least_ to show up was Ferdinand von Aegir. That, and Caspar von Bergliz, who played a huge role in the disbandment of the team in the first place.

Above all, there were only nine of them in the room.

“I’m Edelgard and I’ll be your captain,” she continued anyways. “I’m a senior and I plan to play as the libero. This is my assistant captain, Hubert.”

“I usually play as the setter,” Hubert said next to her. He then motioned for the next person to start. Edelgard preemptively sighed. She wasn’t the only one who seemed disinterested in what the man had to say. She caught sight of Constance rolling her eyes before he could even begin to speak, crossing her arms as she at next to Dorothea, anger flourishing in her pretty features.

“I am Ferdinand von Aegir,” he said proudly. “I’m a senior and I play as the outside—”

“Sorry, hon, I didn’t quite catch your name,” the girl from her last gym class—Dorothea—said from the back, a smug smile gracing her lips. She winked at Edelgard, twirling the end of her braid.

“I am Ferdinand von Aegir,” he repeated.

“How’s the first part pronounced?” Dorothea asked again and was about to get away with it before Hubert interrupted.

“Enough.”

The redhead looked insulted, but he stopped attempting his introduction as her assistant captain glared at him from the front of the room.

Edelgard frowned, bringing her fingers to her temple. Eventually, Dorothea took over the introduction. The captain had to admit that she was invited for selfish reasons, especially after she caught her attention the prior year. She was the star of their class regardless of athletic skill, her charisma helping her tiptoe her way into each person’s heart with compliments and flirtatious comments abound.

“I’m Dorothea, nice to meet all of you,” she said with a blinding smile. “I am also a senior. I have never played volleyball.”

“My name is Constance von Nuvelle.” Edelgard was surprised to see her, given the girl’s circumstances. She was sitting close to Dorothea, watching her as she gave her introduction. Edelgard had to admit that she didn’t remember the two of them being friends, but it was easy to read their body language. “I am also graduating this year.”

“Linhardt. Sophomore.” Linhardt didn’t seem interested in picking his head up from the table. Edelgard wasn’t sure how he had gotten there, but she was far past the point of questioning it.

“My name is Petra. I am a freshman and I am also not knowing of volleyball.” Edelgard was glad to see _someone_ who seemed excited and likely not attempting to just be a pain in her ass.

“And I am Flayn. I’m also a freshman,” she said excitedly.

“Caspar. Defensive specialist and I’m a sophomore,” Caspar said. That was enough to confuse her, considering he had given _two of the three_ concussions that got the boys’ volleyball team disbanded. It was… difficult to hit the other team hard enough to deliver a concussion if one wasn’t spiking the ball.

“So, that looks like all of us,” Edelgard said, still glancing towards the door. Perhaps she had been too hopeful about the team.

Just then—a tenth person walked in.

“Bernie!” Dorothea smiled, patting the seat next to her. The person scuttled in, hiding her hands in the sleeves of the sweatshirt that was too big on her. “Introduce yourself, darling.” Edelgard’s heart dropped a _bit_ at the pet name.

“Oh, um. I’m Bernie,” she said.

“She’s a junior and also has not played before,” Dorothea filled in, smiling at Edelgard.

“That makes ten,” Edelgard said, not able to hide her smile. Somehow, Hubert had done it. He hadn’t put together an _effective_ team by any means, but it was a team. “Hubert, do you mind sending the principal our roster?” He took out his phone, leaning against the chalkboard as he began to type out the names. “I was expecting more people who knew how to play volleyball, but I’m sure if we split up we will be able to cover all the rules on the first day of practice.”

“Who are we going to play?” Caspar asked, now kicking his feet up onto the front desk.

Edelgard glanced in the direction of Bernie and Dorothea, not wanting to scare them away. “The coach will have that information,” she decided on, not willing to admit that they might play against some of the other schools’ varsity teams. “I don’t want to keep everyone here, so please plan for another meeting on Friday. I’m not sure when we’ll have the new coach, but at the very least we’ll get in the gym to start learning the basics.” Edelgard looked to Hubert, to assure that she didn’t forget anything. “Thank you all so much and I’m looking forward to this season.”

“You did it,” Hubert said as she watched everyone get ready to leave. There was already chatter among the team members.

“ _You_ did it.” she turned to her best friend. “You really didn’t have to go out of your way for this.”

“And let you not play your last year?” Hubert shook his head.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Dorothea seemingly appeared in the front of the room. “It’s nice to see you. I think this is going to be fun.”

“Nice to see you,” Edelgard greeted, a bit confused as to why the girl approached her. Many of the others had already left the room in a rush, but Bernie and Constance also lingered. They both looked like they were waiting for Dorothea, but neither of them were speaking to one another.

“Can I grab your phone number?” Dorothea asked. “I could use some tips about how to prepare.”

“Of course.” She took the phone handed towards her, noting that she had put her name in as “Edie <3.” It was enough for her to blush, Dorothea managing to do something she had tried for most of the previous year just to fail: getting the other girl’s number.

“I think it’s a cute nickname.” Dorothea seemed to notice that she was staring at it, hesitating to put her number in. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I will not call you by it.”

“No, you’re okay,” Edelgard said, amused. “You do like your nicknames.” She could recall a plethora of pet names being thrown around to her teammates.

“Edie and Hubie.” She hummed, earning a nasty glare from the tall man. “Mind giving Bern and I a ride home?” Dorothea nodded towards Bernie, who was hovering in the doorway. Constance spun her own keys on her finger, waiting for all of them to walk out to the parking lot with one another.

“And there’s the ulterior motive,” Hubert said dryly.

“ _No_ , I think Edie will help me with volleyball. I’m a quick learner,” Dorothea said with a wink.

“We have the space,” Edelgard said, walking out of the room as a group of five. Bernie seemed skittish as they headed out of the building, but calmed considerably after Dorothea took her hand.

“Can you believe that Hubert is going to play Hamlet in the spring?”

“He’s going to _what_?” Edelgard looked to her friend, who now seemed thoroughly annoyed.

“Nothing to worry about,” Hubert said and Dorothea dissolved into laughter.

“You will make quite the foreboding Hamlet.” Constance didn’t bother to disguise her laugh—even Bernie hiding a giggle. “You already have the groveling down to perfection.”

“Constance, are you also in drama club?” Edelgard asked and the girl nodded.

“Dorothea requested I join for my skill in projecting my voice.”

“And is she not amazing?” Dorothea followed up. She smiled at Edelgard so brightly that it was difficult to hold the eye contact. She nearly turned down the wrong hallway if it wasn’t for Hubert leading her down the one towards the parking lot. “I have my predictions that she will land a staring role despite it being her first year.”

“You oversell me,” Constance said, but she was beaming at the praise.

“I think you will do wonderful,” Edelgard offered.

Perhaps the recruitment method had been… chaotic at best, but it wasn’t real practice yet. It felt good to be able to stick it to Rhea and Seteth with the roster, their jeers as they promised that she wouldn’t even be able to pull a team of ten. Their promise for a coach had been a bet that they assumed they would win—but her and Hubert had managed to do what they deemed impossible. Edelgard took a deep breath as she watched Hubert and Dorothea begin to bicker over his apparent “God-sent” role.

She had managed to put together a team. Somehow, she would make the fall season work.


	2. Cupcakes & Coach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Close. Need to make sure to move your body so that you can get it up without trouble.”
> 
> “Can we settle for ‘good enough?’”
> 
> “No.” Byleth moved on.
> 
> The volleyball team finds an unlikely coach as the new year of school begins. Friendship seems like the unlikely option between the teammates, but is it possible for them to become closer?

“Oh, there’s Edelgard and Hubert.” Caspar dragged an uninterested Linhardt behind him. “Edelgard!”

He could see the girl sigh as he yelled her name. The cafeteria at Garreg Mach was roaring around them in the usual chaos that overtook the lunch hour: kids screaming at one another as if they were across the room instead of at the same table, music blasting from someone’s personal speaker, food being tossed at other students.

Edelgard rolled her eyes once more as he approached, Hubert answering instead, “What could you possibly need, Caspar?”

“How do you think we’re going to win with _him_ on the team?” He jabbed a finger to Linhardt.

“ _He_ has a name,” Linhardt responded, taking a seat at the table.

Caspar pulled out a seat, throwing his bag on the ground. “This team isn’t going to work out. Half of them don’t know how to play volleyball.”

“I know that,” Edelgard said, taking a sip from her water bottle. Her lilac eyes didn’t leave his as she did the action and she didn’t look particularly amused. “We’ve been over this every day this week. It is now _Friday_.”

“They can learn,” Hubert said. “Until then, we will just need to compensate for the lack of skill.”

“How come you weren’t on the boys’ team, then? If you’re so confident.” Caspar had been wondering that, since he was apparently a setter. It wasn’t an easy position, to say the least. Hubert was just so stuck up about how he was a good player for someone who had never set foot on the school’s courts.

“I play for a different league, but it is none of your business. Linhardt is tall, he will learn how to play the net.”

“Oh, so you just need to be _tall_?!”

“Yelling,” Linhardt said.

“I’ll show you _tall_.”

“Caspar, sit down,” Edelgard chided as he jumped to his feet. Caspar sat back down, sitting on his feet so he could lean forward on the table. A few students at other tables were now looking at the out-of-place group. They likely saw _him_ yelling and hoped that it would be another fabled fight between him and other students.

“Oh, hello! Can I sit with you?” Caspar looked behind him to see Flayn standing behind him holding a lunch tray. He didn’t personally know anything about the freshman except for the fact that she was the assistant principal’s pride and joy. He clearly remembered several photos of her in Seteth’s office the few times he had gotten in trouble.

“Sure, since I’m already _babysitting_ ,” Hubert said, his tone dry as Flayn sat down between Caspar and Linhardt. “Did your father say anything to you about the team?”

“He said I am ‘absolutely not playing,’ but he’s not in charge of me.” Flayn huffed. Caspar ate a carrot off of her tray.

“He _is_ in charge of you, you’re an infant,” Hubert said and Flayn was about to argue when Linhardt interrupted.

“It looks like he might be coming to fix that,” he said.

Caspar followed his gaze and sure enough Seteth was standing in the middle of the zoo of students, glaring from table to table. His eyes locked with their table and began to cross the cafeteria at a frightening speed.

“Nope, can’t let him see me,” Caspar said, remembering his various threats after the fated volleyball match. Caspar had gotten rushed off of the bus after said match and straight into his office. Even so, he was glad that it was Seteth he was dealing with, not Rhea. Caspar did the obvious thing.

He dived under the table.

“What is wrong with you?” Linhardt kicked him lightly. Caspar stayed silent, listening to Edelgard’s aggravated sigh. Now that he was on the ground, he could see that she was wearing dress pants and heels to _school_. Who does that?

“Caspar von Bergliez, I can _see you_ under the table.” Seteth’s voice boomed from above and despite not being religious, Caspar uttered a prayer. “Get up.”

“He’s not there,” Linhardt said in a smart-ass tone.

“Caspar, just get up,” Hubert said, also kicking him, and Caspar peeked over the table. Seteth didn’t look pleased, but his anger also didn’t seem directed at him.

“I cannot allow my daughter on your team,” Seteth said, turning to Edelgard and Hubert.

“She signed the paper,” Edelgard said.

“I’m playing, Father!” Flayn insisted.

“She says she’s playing, so that appears to be a family problem,” Hubert added.

“I just want to play, you won’t let me do _anything_ ,” Flayn continued. Even more people were watching, now, and Edelgard was rolling her eyes. Linhardt put his head down on the table, using Caspar’s balled up sweatshirt as a pillow.

“I don’t see why she can’t play,” Caspar interrupted the argument. “Look how excited she is!”

“It’s because of people like _you_.” Seteth rubbed his temples. “Two concussions in one game, how did you do that?”

“Sometimes the ball cannot be controlled,” Caspar said.

“If you focused on hitting it more than your battle cry, I’m sure it is possible,” Hubert said.

“The battle cry is important!” Caspar insisted. He wasn’t sure what everyone had against his screaming during the games (and practice… and team bonding… and general daily life), it raised team morale. He could see Flayn slowly sinking into herself. “Just let her play, there are risks in life. What is she going to gain if you don’t let her get hit around a bit?”

Flayn smiled, looking to her father with soft eyes. Even though Seteth liked protecting his daughter, Caspar had a feeling that he was also incredibly weak when it came to upsetting her. They would just have to push him a _bit_ over the edge.

“If you don’t let your daughter do anything, she’s just going to act out down the line,” Linhardt added, helpfully. His hair fell over his face. “It’s volleyball or cocaine.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for her,” Edelgard assured. “We all look out for each other on the court.” Caspar stuck his tongue out at the captain when she sent him a glare.

“Fine,” Seteth finally relented with a sigh.

“Yay!” Flayn nearly jumped out of her seat. “Thank you, Father!”

“ _But_ ,” Seteth continued, trying not to make eye contact with his excited daughter, “I will be in charge of selecting the coach. I happen to have found a person by the name Byleth Eisner who was looking for work.”

“Eisner?” Edelgard asked. “As in the retired hockey player? They want to _coach_?”

“Byleth?” Flayn said nearly at the same time. “My cousin wants to work _here_?”

“Cousin?” Edelgard looked.

“Not cousins, but family some-many-times removed,” Flayn said. “It’s easier to just call them my cousin.”

“None of you are allowed to practice until we have a coach appointed—” so much for that day’s practice “—but hopefully they will be ready for Monday.”

“What’s that about a hockey player?” Caspar asked as Seteth left without a farewell, turning quick on his heels.

“One of the best hockey players of recent times. They absolutely dominated D1,” Edelgard said. “They were set for an extremely successful career on the United State’s women’s national ice hockey team… but had to stop due to health complications. It’s really unfortunate.”

“Since when do you know so much about hockey?” Flayn asked.

Edelgard visibly hesitated. “Family is big into it,” she said.

“Oh, that’s so cool! I’m going to join a team in winter, I just need to get Father on board!”

“You could barely get him to let you join a volleyball team, what’s going to happen when you get _thrown_ across the ice?” Hubert asked.

Caspar didn’t know how a hockey player could help them, but they sounded respectable. He was sure that it didn’t matter because if they were able to play on Monday… it would be considered a win. As much as Edelgard seemed to neglect the fun of the sport—Caspar had to admit that he was glad for her bringing together a volleyball team. It had been crushing to lose his own towards the end of the last season, him and Ferdinand especially lamenting the loss. They, themselves, would never have the organizational skills to pull together their own team… so they just had to accept it for what it was.

“How’s school going?” Caspar asked Flayn as Hubert and Edelgard continued to discuss the new coach in whispers. Edelgard looked particularly intrigued, showing her friend something on her phone as if they were scheming the downfall of an entire country. Linhardt kept his head down on the table, regardless of how sticky it likely was underneath the sweatshirt pillow.

“It is going well, I have already made some new friends.” Flayn looked grateful for the question.

“Do you know anyone from your middle school?” Caspar asked. It had helped him get accustomed to the bigger, much more terrifying Garreg Mach high school to know familiar faces such as Ferdinand or even Linhardt. He would have hardly considered them friends prior to the team forming, but they were comforting nonetheless.

“No,” Flayn said with a slight frown. “I was in online school up until now.”

“Yeah—that makes a lot of sense.” Caspar raised his eyebrows, but cut back his sarcasm when he saw the freshman frown. “I’m glad you made it on the team then! It’s going to be fun!”

* * *

“Constance, darling, you need to mix it a bit faster than that.” Dorothea joined her at the counter, taking the plastic spatula from her hands.

“I was doing just lovely,” Constance insisted, but rubbed at her arms. The batter was seemingly fighting against her the whole time, so she couldn’t argue as her friend laughed and took over. Constance was in a study hall with the freshman—Petra—when she offhandedly mentioned that her birthday was on Monday. Since she was new to the school, they weren’t going to let her celebrate by herself. As soon as Constance had gotten off of work she picked up Dorothea and they got the supplies at the grocery store. She always loved when Dorothea would tag along on her errands—it made everything seem a little bit less lonely and much more bearable.

“How’s Yuri and Hapi? Been around lately?” Dorothea asked as she stirred the mix. They were just making it from the box, but it was already looking good.

“Yuri stopped by on the first day of school to make dinner,” Constance said. “Balthus insisted on a movie night and Hapi’s been busy.”

“That’s good,” Dorothea said with a smile. Constance knew all too well that Dorothea was just making sure she hadn’t been alone at her apartment all week, but it was as if she assumed that she spent all her time alone.

Then again, was that a wrong assumption?

Dorothea would always ask the same questions, her intentions hiding underneath. Asking what she had for dinner were always a reminder to eat, the same as asking if she needed help with her laundry. Dorothea wasn’t positive that Constance could take care of herself without the gentle reminders, but the problem was she wasn’t _false_ in her accusations. Constance would hardly remember to do anything if it wasn’t for Dorothea’s companionship.

“Do you mind getting the liners out?” Dorothea asked.

“Of course.” Constance grabbed the package, dropping the printed papers into the pan. They had little smiley faces on them. She could have moved in with Yuri and Hapi after her family’s death, but then she would be outside of the school district. A brand new school to repeat her senior year sounded like hell on Earth, so she continued to pay rent on a small and run down apartment. The kitchen was cramped and dim in her home, the light on the ceiling barely reaching the corners. It was lonely at times, but she had Yuri, Hapi, Balthus—

“See, a natural!” _And Dorothea._ “You almost had it mixed completely, it was just a little lumpy.”

“You completed all the work.” Constance frowned. It was nice to make cupcakes for Petra’s birthday. She would have normally been making a cake with her mom for her brother’s birthday in August. This year she could barely get out of bed on the day because it was too—

“Con, you okay?” Dorothea asked. She put a hand over hers. “If you need me to stop talking to you, we can be quiet, I don’t mind.”

“No, no. There is no need.” She took a deep breath. “My mind keeps wandering terribly, my apologies.”

“What can I do to help?”

“It would be splendid if you could continue to speak,” Constance said. She really didn’t know it was possible to become acquainted with someone for three months and feel like she’s been by her side for her whole life. And it was all in the little things: always being there to help her, getting her to join clubs, inviting her over for Sunday dinner in her foster family’s small dining room and praying hand in hand with them.

“Keep talking… you know, I think I can do that one.” Dorothea laughed, a sound that filled the small kitchen. She began to pour the mix into the cupcake liners, doing her best not to drip the batter onto the pan. “So, I know I’m playing volleyball because I want more than anything to see Hubie act as Hamlet… but how come you’re so pumped?”

“If it is truly your desire to know,” Constance started, but faltered in tone, “Edelgard is Captain.”

“Well, how much do you like Edelgard von Hresvelg?” Dorothea asked as she put the cupcakes into the oven, being careful not to touch the heated metal. Constance held her breath, hating the idea of Dorothea getting hurt for her sake. Dorothea completed the task easily, swinging the door to the oven shut.

Constance stalled, using the moment to set a timer on her phone. “How much do _you_ like Edelgard?”

“A lot.” Dorothea smiled. “We’ve been texting all week and it’s kind of amazing. Sure, I can already tell that she’s competitive, but honestly I’m looking forward to playing with her.”

It reminded her of the time Dorothea came out to her as polyamorous. She had tried to do so casually, but Constance had watched her fingers tremble as she explained how she loved. Her foster parents were religious and Dorothea went to church with them every Sunday. Constance knew that Dorothea could take care of herself (she took care of Constance, after all)—but she still worried.

Her admitting this crush was similar, with the casual tone in her voice while her eyes watched Constance’s face for any semblance of a reaction. Dorothea was an actress, that was for sure.

“I will back off if you like her,” Dorothea added, bringing Constance’s attention back to her. “Or we could share.” She winked.

“It’s not that!” Constance insisted, following her into the small living room. They usually set up her laptop to watch Netflix, Dorothea typing in Constance’s passcode. “My parents worked for her father. Hresvelg Corporation,” she clarified. “It would be grand if I could get an internship out of high school, that is all.”

She knew that it would be a shot in the dark—she had done her research, most of their interns were from prestigious business schools—but she hoped that her parents’ hard work would proceed her.

“It doesn’t hurt to try, but don’t go befriending her just for favors,” Dorothea warned. She was pondering the suggestions on the home screen. “God, she’s pretty.”

Constance sighed. She didn’t mean to, she never meant to be jealous of Dorothea’s gushing, but it would come in waves. Dorothea was charismatic, luring in people by her words. She could never distinguish between the girl’s teasing and flirting. Besides, there was a large possibility that the only reason she had become friends was out of pity. It stirred a strange guilt in the pit of her stomach to doubt Dorothea’s intentions, but the irrational part of her brain wouldn’t let it sit still.

“You’re beautiful as well, Con,” Dorothea said with a smile to counter Constance’s own frown. She sat closer to her on the couch. “Thank you for letting me hijack your kitchen. Don’t want to get in Mary and Harold’s way.”

“It’s too quiet anymore without you here,” Constance said, and she meant it. Over the summer she became accustomed to Dorothea and her chatter. Depended on it. “Did you pick a show?”

“Baking show in honor of our stunning performance in the kitchen?”

“Sure.”

Constance hardly paid attention as Dorothea found a baking show where none of the contestants were professionals. It was more fun that way—watching them venture into the world of sweets with no prior experience. It wasn’t meant to be watched for the results they brought to the judges, so to speak, but rather for the character of the contestants. Some were nervous to plate their food, already knowing that they would fail to earn the trophy. Others were filled with unfounded confidence, even though Constance could taste how bland their cake was through the screen.

Her favorite contestants were the ones that _knew_ that they had fucked up, but were still willing to bluff about their dessert as if it were fit for the gods. The food would be nowhere near divine, but their personalities always shined through as they explained how they most definitely meant for the cake to fall over and crumble onto the tray, that it was just a feature of their design. “De-constructed” as some would call it.

Constance’s bad mood faded away as Dorothea laughed along to the show, pulling her in and taking petty bets against one contestant or another. The girl cuddled closer to her, checking the timer on their own project occasionally. Monday would come and her final year of high school would begin in full-force. Yuri had promised her that the second time would be a charm, but she wasn’t so sure.

“Feeling better, I hope?” Dorothea asked, taking Constance’s hand into hers.

Constance squeezed it, trying to will a stronger voice behind her words, but failing to find them. There was no need to hide from Dorothea, but she knew that it would make her happier if she could summon it. “Feeling better.”

Dorothea accepted the words that she settled on, the cupcakes nearly done in the oven.

* * *

Something informed Linhardt that he _shouldn_ _’t_ tell the coach that the reason he stayed on the team was to skip gym class entirely. Even though they seemed laid back enough (holding a clipboard in one hand and a giant coffee in the other), the coach held themself with a certain degree of confidence. Just their posture was enough to make him grow sleepy, even before they had spoken a word.

“This is Coach Eisner and they will be in charge of your team,” Seteth introduced as they stood in front of the small group of teens. The person in front of them had sweatpants and a tight shirt on, their navy hair tucked into a ponytail. Linhardt and his teammates were all in various levels of “volleyball appropriate” attire and to be honest, Linhardt had kept his jeans on.

“Thanks, Seteth. I’ll keep them in line,” they said. Seteth seemed pleased with himself, stalking off to the bleachers. It was no surprise that he would be watching the practice to make sure his baby angel wouldn’t get a bruise. As soon as he was far away enough, Byleth began to talk. “Don’t call me that. Byleth is fine or even ‘Coach.’” They looked to the team, sizing them up. “If you know about my professional career, I don’t really care to talk about it. No hard feelings, but I’m just here to teach you how to play. I use they/them pronouns and don’t use gendered terms, so respect that. I also cannot physically participate in practice due to medical complications, but I will be relying on your Captain and Co-Captain for demonstrations.”

And with the mini-spiel, that was the most Linhardt would ever hear out of their new coach in one go. Byleth wasn’t one to partake in smalltalk or formalities, which was fine by him. There was no need to waste extra words, especially if it would lengthen practice. Everyone went around the circle and introduced themselves once more, this time with pronouns. Linhardt remembered most of the names, it was a bit too difficult to _forget_ the big personalities. He even knew that it was Petra’s birthday, thanks to Constance and Dorothea bringing in two dozen cupcakes. It wasn’t Linhardt’s style, but the freshman looked elated.

The coach had a few extra questions about how knowledgeable they were on the sport and any kind of experience that they would be able to bring to the court. They frowned for a moment when they realized how many of their new players had never touched a volleyball, but their apathetic expression returned after scribbling a few lines on their clipboard. Byleth finished their notes, then the team was off running.

Literally running.

Linhardt had heard from an upperclassman that joining a team sport gave an automatic pass in gym classes. Even if it meant staying after school at the _very_ least both his gym teachers and parents would be off his back. The goal was the gym teachers would stop attempting to fail him for not participating in the group activities and his parents wouldn’t hound him to join a club where he could “actually make friends for once.” He didn’t know that volleyball would involve _running_.

“C’mon, Linhardt. It’s only two laps around the gym,” Caspar urged him along, Linhardt barely over the speed of _walking_. Everyone else had already done their laps but he was taking his blissful time. Until Caspar was shoving him along as his feet dragged and shuffled against the gymnasium floor. It was oddly silent as he finished up the lap, only the sound of his feet hitting the ground in poor sneakers and Caspar’s needless screaming. He was used to the insistent noise of gym classes, the high-pitched yells of teenage boys who didn’t _quite_ reach puberty yet as they pummeled each other with flat basketballs.

At the very least, Linhardt deserved a nap after the two laps, but instead Byleth had them line up and learn how to receive the ball.

“Linhardt, you got that?” they asked as they stood in front of him. He had barely listened, instead daydreaming of working on his project when practice ended in approximately one hour, forty five minutes, and twenty seconds. Byleth tossed him the ball and he did as instructed, pressing his hands together and letting it connect with his arms. The ball bounced off, not straight but somewhat up in the air. “Close. Need to make sure to move your body so that you can get it up without trouble.”

“Can we settle for ‘good enough?’”

“No.” Byleth moved on.

Next to him was a shaking Bernie.

“No, no, no.” Her eyes widened. Even though he hadn’t paid much attention to the rest of the line, the borderline shrieking was enough to hold his interest. He was sure there couldn’t possibly be a reason to be this hysteric over _volleyball_.

“It’s fine,” Byleth said. “Just the same motion as everyone else.”

“What if it hits me?”

“I’m just tossing it. It won’t hurt.”

“I don’t think she can handle being in a game,” Hubert said, stepping out of line and furrowing his brows at the other player. Constance and Petra both shrank back as he began to head towards Bernie, but Dorothea stepped into his way.

“She can do it!” Dorothea smiled. “Bern, you got this!”

Byleth considered and then tossed the ball especially gently towards Bernie. She screamed and dived away, refusing to make contact with the ball. It hit the floor with a thud, rolling away.

“Yeah, no. I have to agree with Hubert,” Caspar said.

“Well, we don’t really have a choice, do we?” Edelgard put her hands on her hips. Linhardt laughed to himself, knowing that this eclectic team would be quick to be torn apart at the seams. “You can’t be afraid of the ball, Bernie.”

Bernie stepped backwards when Edelgard started towards her. Dorothea once again stood between her and Bernie, like a guard dog protecting its owner. “She’s learning. Not everyone can be as skilled as you right off the bat,” she said with a gentle smile.

“Edelgard,” Byleth got her attention. They had gotten the ball that had bounced away from Bernie. “It’s day one, no big deal.”

“Yes, Coach.” Edelgard sounded a bit defeated and it amused Linhardt. He didn’t want to pass judgment too quickly, but the girl seemed to be _exhausting_. Sure, it had to feel good being the top of everything, but where was the fun in that if you couldn’t enjoy it? Edelgard had a scowl on her face nearly the entire practice, especially having some choice words against him when he dragged himself through the second lap. She watched them like an eagle, not taking her eyes off of them as they went through the motions of practice, brows furrowing when a movement wasn’t satisfactory. She observed her own work with the same scrutiny, never settling for anything less than perfection.

“Bernie, you can do it next time, I’ll just move down the line. Grab a drink,” Byleth directed, moving onto Ferdinand who was more than ready to show his receiving skills. Bernie still seemed shaken by the encounter, but Dorothea was by her side as she got water.

“I mean we don’t need everyone on the court, she can just sit out,” Edelgard was saying to Hubert.

“Or let her try more than once?” Caspar asked, earning a glare from the captain. Linhardt just yawned, bringing the attention to him. “What, are we boring you?”

“A bit,” Linhardt said. “To be honest, you’re taking this too seriously.”

“Oh no, I like the sport I play, _sue me_ ,” Caspar taunted, crossing his arms. Hubert and Edelgard just stalked off, getting ready to start the next drill with Byleth. The others stood around a bit more aimlessly: Constance looking lost without Dorothea at her side, Flayn attempting to dodge the glares from her father, Petra playing with the end of her braid, and Ferdinand jumping into the air to spike an invisible ball.

In the end, Linhardt left that first lesson with promises of daily practices from that day forward, a homework assignment to learn the positions and rules of the game, and one massive headache from listening to the team bicker amongst themselves.

Was it worth a pass in gym class? He would have to see. At the very least he would have another study hall during the day and an opportunity to sneak into the labs while the teachers were too busy teaching basic biology lessons to freshman and seniors who couldn’t care any less. It wasn’t like he ever had plans after school besides scouring journals and diving into Wikipedia articles—he wasn’t one to spend time with family and had no friends that would take up his valuable time. It would be a trade: one hour of blissful silence in the lab in exchange for two hours of mindless bickering in the gymnasium after school.


	3. Game One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why will they be killing Ferdinand?” Petra asked.
> 
> “Because he thinks he’s better than a whole varsity team,” Linhardt suggested.
> 
> “All I meant by it was that we would have a clear advantage!” Ferdinand insisted, but Hubert interrupted any further explanation.  
> “Ferdinand. Shut up.”
> 
> The first game approaches quickly and the team is ready for anything... well, anything but facing another school's varsity volleyball team.

With the first week of practices combining with a new school, time went by like a blur. By her last class on Friday, Flayn couldn’t contain her excitement. She was practically bouncing in her seat, tapping her pen against the paper as the teacher drilled on about historical events long in the past.

“Do you have excitement?” Petra leaned over, whispering the question to her. Even though they were the two freshmen of the team, they only had one class together. Flayn wished the bright girl was in more of them, but they had fallen into the habit of sitting with each other for lunch, Bernie joining them more often than not. “My heart is having a race.”

“Oh, yes! Ever so,” Flayn said, earning a look from the teacher for her raise in volume. He was about to say something, but the bell rang. “Let’s go!” She took Petra’s hand, navigating their way to the freshman hallway through the crowds of students rushing to the busses. They grabbed their sports bags from their lockers then met up with the others at the locker room.

“I think the shirts came out fine, Edelgard,” Hubert said as they walked into the girls’ locker room. Their captain had a box open that was filled with t-shirts. Kids from other sports teams were looking skeptically at the tall shadow of a man, cautiously stepping around him. “Good job.”

“Here you go, Flayn and Petra.” Edelgard tossed them each a white t-shirt that had “Garreg Mach” scribbled on the front with a black marker and then a number with their last name on the back. Even though Edelgard’s handwriting was neat, there was only so much control one could have when writing on an uneven surface with a Sharpie. “The school didn’t allocate us funds and they wouldn’t let us use the boys’ uniforms, so this is what we got.”

“How does it look, Edie?” Dorothea twirled around the corner with her shirt tied up to a crop top and her hair gathered into a bun. Flayn was shocked that her shorts were so short, but it wasn’t unusual for her. It wouldn’t be Dorothea if she wasn’t evading Rhea half the day in hopes of avoiding a dress code violation. “Cute, right?”

“Very nice,” Edelgard said, “but the ref will ask you untie it.”

“Their loss,” she said in a sing-song voice.

“Why is Hubert in the room for girls?” Petra asked.

“I needed the t-shirts,” Hubert said.

“Oh, okay.” Flayn smiled, looking at the t-shirt. Perhaps it wasn’t the uniform she was expecting, but it was a uniform nonetheless. It was exciting to be a part of a team, all of them working together!

“Edelgard! Do you have the shirts?” a loud voice penetrated the locker room.

“Yes, Ferdinand,” Edelgard hissed, throwing the shirt as hard as she could and socking him in the face with it. Flayn had watched the captain grow increasingly frustrated throughout the week with the other boy. He was a good player, but easily the most boastful of the team. She truly thought Hubert was planning to hit him with his car in the parking lot when given the chance. Flayn assumed that the only reason it had yet to happen was because then they would be down a member for the team. It was a choice of having a volleyball team or being free from Ferdinand von Aegir.

“Just shirts?” Ferdinand asked. “Wow, they look like you did them by hand. It’s lopsided”

“Thanks,” Edelgard said, dryly. “I used our budget and my _abundance_ of free time, Ferdinand.”

“I believe the shirts are lovely, Edelgard!” Constance joined from a different row of lockers, wearing her own shirt. “What an honor that it has been graced by the name von Nuvelle.”

“Get out of the girls room.” Edelgard turned to the two boys. “You’re going to get us in trouble.” She motioned to the soccer team who was shying away from the boys.

“Hey, not all the feminine presenting people on our team are even girls,” Dorothea said. “I think the whole gendered restroom thing sucks.”

“Yes, I agree,” Edelgard raised her eyebrows, “but I don’t think the administration will help us with that if Ferdinand is in here.”

“I’m just getting the uniform,” Ferdinand said. “I wouldn’t do anything indecent—”

“Oh, cool! Uniforms!” Caspar slammed the door open, still somehow dragging Linhardt behind him. Flayn was sure that he was half-asleep by this time in the afternoon. She had caught glimpses of him once or twice throughout the day—he hardly seemed to spend much time awake. As long as he was here, however, they would be able to play. “Why do they kind of suck?”

“Edelgard and I did not receive any funding,” Hubert reiterated. Flayn could have sworn that their captain looked hurt, but the expression disappeared as soon as it had come, back to her stoic gaze.

“Hey!” They all turned to see one of the coaches—Catherine—glaring at them. The woman also happened to be Flayn’s gym teacher, and she could be _terrifying_ once she shed her laid-back exterior. If she had remembered from the other day, she coached the soccer team during fall and softball during spring. “What the ever-loving hell do you think you’re doing?”

“T-shirts,” Linhardt said, holding his up in a ball.

“That doesn’t mean you can—” her voice began to raise as she stormed towards them, half of the team stumbling to get out of the way. Catherine was about to get to them when the locker room door opened again. Flayn felt her heart skip a few beats.

“They’re mine,” a voice said as they entered the room, “sorry about it. We’re heading out now.”

Byleth was standing in the doorway, hair tied back and twisting their car keys on their finger.

“Coach! They are harassing us,” Constance announced. “We were just getting changed!”

“Get out of the locker room, we can talk about this later,” they said. “Is everyone dressed?” They were all herded out with their bags, Byleth making sure each one of them had a shirt on and telling Dorothea to put hers on properly. Flayn and Petra quickly got their _uniforms_ on, not wanting to keep the coach waiting.

Once they all gathered outside in the gym, Byleth turned to them. “If the locker room situation is making anyone uncomfortable, I can try to talk to the school. That being said, unless some of you aren’t telling me something—and I will happily correct myself—you can’t just do _that_.” They aimed their gaze at the boys, who kind of shrugged.

Flayn was surprised when Bernie raised her hand. “Well, um, it’s always been an issue at this school. I’m non-binary… but without a note from a parent they aren’t willing to accommodate.”

“Okay, I’m sorry about that.” The coach nodded to Bernie, voice softening. “Tomorrow I’ll try to get in contact with the school and I will do my best to work on fixing that.”

Bernie’s face brightened and Flayn smiled. Flayn wouldn’t mind sharing the space with her teammates, but she wasn’t sure if the school would be thrilled with their proposition while other sports were still in session. Her dad did have a soft-spot for their cousin, though, so she hoped that they would be able to make Bernie feel more comfortable.

“Now, we were provided no busses,” Byleth continued. “I worked it out with Edelgard, but we might have to start bringing funds for gas money. Hubert will be driving Edelgard, Petra, Ferdinand, and Caspar. Constance offered to drive Dorothea and Bernie… that leaves Linhardt and Flayn in my truck.”

“Why do I have to go with you?” Linhardt questioned. “Constance has enough space.”

“Would you show up or would you walk away?”

“Fair enough.” Linhardt backed down.

“Okay,” Byleth clapped their hands together. “Exciting.”

They said it with little enthusiasm, nothing to show that they were _actually_ excited for their first match. Flayn would like to say that they _were_ , but it was how her cousin always had been for as long as she could remember, only the apathetic expression and tone were much stronger following their accident. Vaguely Flayn could recall moments where them and Jeralt would visit, Byleth playing soccer with her in the backyard even as her father groveled over the decision.

Jeralt would always lay a heavy hand on his shoulder and tell him to lighten up.

Even now, as Byleth started the car and let country music roll through the speakers, they showed no sign of a smile. Linhardt grumbled as he got into the back about the music choice, but Byleth didn’t even bother to correct him. Flayn looked to Byleth, but was worried she would be turned down if she attempted a conversation. She sat uneasy in the silence.

“What’s that look?” Byleth asked, glancing over as they followed Constance’s small car out of the lot.

“Just worried about the game,” Flayn lied, not liking the distance when paired with memories of scoring goals against them and tumbling on the freshly-mowed lawn.

“It will be a great first game,” Byleth assured, offering no other words.

* * *

It was not a great first game.

Ferdinand was sure that Hubert was going to kick him out of a moving vehicle after insisting on a change in music, but he made it in one piece to the opposing high school. Byleth led all of them into the gym, where a team was already warming up on the court in full uniform. He knew that it wouldn’t be who they were going up against, since it was a team of girls.

“Hey.” Byleth walked up to the opposing coach. “Thank you for your time, I’m Byleth and I’m the coach for the Garreg Mach team.”

As they spoke to the coach, the other team began to take notice of Ferdinand’s team. They snickered quietly, their red uniforms noble compared to the generic-brand t-shirts.

“This is the girls’ team,” Ferdinand said to Edelgard.

“Yes, the varsity team offered to play against us.”

Ferdinand frowned. It would be unfair to play against a team of girls. The net would be lowered and, especially with Ferdinand and Hubert playing the front lines, it would be easy to spike and block.

“Coach, we should warm up before the game starts,” Hubert said once Byleth had exchanged information.

“I said no to a warm up, we need a pep talk more than anything.”

“You said no to a warm up?” Edelgard asked. Ferdinand had to agree with her for once. It seemed foolish to go into a game without even touching one of the balls. Especially when Bernie had yet to successfully hit or receive a ball without running in the other direction.

“Okay, circle up.” Byleth ignored their pleas and gathered them on the bleachers. Ferdinand noticed that Edelgard looked tense. She was wearing a black t-shirt—standard for the libero, who had to stand out from the rest of the team’s uniform. The freshmen seemed nervous, but in good spirits, while Edelgard had her fists clenched, looking at the other team. “Ferdinand, Linhardt, and Petra—you’ll be starting in the front. Caspar, Hubert, and Flayn will start in the back. We didn’t go much into libero rules, but Edelgard will be constantly switching in and out, okay? Constance, Dorothea, Bernie—don’t take offense that I’m not starting with you.”

“It’s understandable,” Dorothea promised. Ferdinand saw her improve greatly in the single week that she had been playing, but she wasn’t as naturally gifted as Petra had been. He assumed that Flayn was picked to start over Constance for the vote of confidence. Constance was another player who wasn’t terrible, but wouldn’t necessarily be beneficial to have on the court when she could only serve over the net half the time. It wasn’t what one would consider consistent.

“We can’t play a girls team,” Ferdinand followed his duty by speaking up. “The net is lowered, we have the advantage.”

“They are also an established team,” Byleth said, their eyes drifting over to where some of the girls were now glaring at them. “They are a varsity team, Ferdinand. I know you came from a much more skilled group than our current situation, but don’t underestimate them.”

“We are also skilled!” Caspar insisted.

“You mustn’t be so quick to dismiss us, Coach!” Constance added.

“Well,” Byleth looked at their team, “glad to see the confidence.”

And so the game began.

They started with the ball, Hubert waiting for everyone to take their positions on the court. Ferdinand couldn’t help but to notice that all the girls on the other side of the net looked… pissed off. And for some reason they were all glaring daggers at him?

“Ah, they want to kill you, Ferdinand,” Linhardt said beside him. This was the first time they had gotten the boy to wear something that wasn’t jeans to play volleyball. Even so, he looked like he was being terribly bothered by the whole ordeal, his hair loose and framing his face.

“Why will they be killing Ferdinand?” Petra asked.

“Because he thinks he’s better than a whole varsity team?” Linhardt suggested.

“All I meant by it was that we would have a clear advantage!” Ferdinand insisted, but Hubert interrupted any further explanation.

“Ferdinand. Shut up.”

Hubert backed up, bouncing the ball hard against the ground. He threw the it into the air and began to run, jumping up and sending the ball sailing over the net. Ferdinand had to hand it to Coach—it was smart to start with someone who could jump serve, then transition to the front line where he would be a force to be reckoned with.

The serve soared onto the court, dropping before the other team could reach it. They probably weren’t expecting a strong hit from such a ragtag team.

Flayn cheered for the point and Hubert attempted the same on the second serve, but this time the ball was hit up into the air. The team fell into formation, the girls calling out to one another to make sure that they knew who was getting the ball. The ball was set up and Ferdinand watched as the offensive line set up to spike.

Instead of blocking, Ferdinand’s hands flew to his face because the ball was aimed directly at it. It ricocheted off his hands and spiraled towards the bleachers where the rest of the team was sitting, Bernie screaming and diving away.

“That isn’t how you block, Ferdinand von ‘it’s unfair we have an advantage’ Aegir,” Hubert said, dryly.

“It was coming right for my face!” Ferdinand huffed.

“Then push it upwards.” Hubert sighed, readying himself for the opposing team’s serve. The server on the other team served overhand, but aimed directly at Flayn, singling her out as the new player on the back row. She attempted to get the ball, but it practically rolled off her arms and onto the floor as the other team cheered.

“You’re good, Flayn!” Coach raised their voice from the bleachers, making sure that the freshman looked towards them. “Remember how you got the ball up in practice!”

It took about three more tries, but finally Flayn was able to receive the ball without much issue. The ball barely got into the air, but it was enough for Caspar to send it over the net, knowing that there wouldn’t be much room for a spike. As the ball worked its way back over, Ferdinand yelled for Linhardt to get to his side. “Block!”

By the time the girl attempted to spike, Ferdinand jumped into the air and the ball brushed his hand. It would have been exactly where Linhardt would be if he bothered to play the game. Instead, it spiraled off of Ferdinand with a weird spin and even though Caspar attempted to save the rally, the ball hit the ground.

“Linhardt?!” Ferdinand had to keep himself from yelling. The sophomore just shrugged at him.

“Linhardt, you have to move,” Byleth said, clearly disappointed. “Most sports involve movement.” This earned them a weak thumbs up from the boy in question.

“Flayn, do that again, that was great,” Ferdinand said. “We can get this back!”

The next serve was a blessing, considering it shifted a bit in the air and was received by Caspar, who was able to get it up into the air.

“Mine,” Hubert called, shifting towards the middle of the court. “Petra.”

He set the ball, Caspar shifting to cover the defensive position he had left. Ferdinand watched as Petra jumped up, connecting with the ball and getting it over the net. It wasn’t the strongest spike, but it got past the blocking player and bounced off the ground.

“I earned a score!” Petra cheered. With the rotation of lines, Byleth used this momentum as a chance to get their star player in. Ferdinand watched as the libero took Flayn’s position in the defensive line, readying herself for the game. If there was any time to score points it would be now, with Caspar, Edelgard, and Petra in defensive position. Ferdinand would have preferred if his and Hubert’s positions were switched, but they could make it work. The three boys in the front towered over the opposing team.

Their momentum only took them to ten points, the other team sitting at a comfortable five when Caspar’s serve went spiraling into the net. Ferdinand was all smiles until he saw the opposing server jump serve. He watched as the ball came towards them and realized this would be their team’s worst nightmare: it was a float serve.

The ball flew towards Petra but dropped suddenly, even Edelgard’s warning not giving her enough time to get to the ball.

“The ball were… was strange,” Petra said as the team set up again.

“It’s a float serve,” Edelgard explained. “There’s no spin, so it’s hard to predict where it will drop. Just watch it carefully and you should be able to receive it.”

That wasn’t the case. The opposing team earned their final twenty points of the set with ease, Each time Petra wasn’t able to get the ball, the team grew more and more frustrated themselves. Well, more like Edelgard was beginning to criticize their every receive and potential play, lashing out at them for incorrect movements. Ferdinand winced when she told Caspar off, the boy clenching his fists in an effort to not make a scene.

It was enough of a problem that Coach Byleth pulled her and brought Flayn back in.

Even Ferdinand was surprised to see her benched. Sure, they weren’t playing as well as they could, but Ferdinand recognized that there were new players on the court and this was their first game. It was unfair to blame them for the downfall. Even if he had been the one to underestimate the opposing team, he didn’t turn against his own.

Byleth bristled on the sidelines when Edelgard traded some words with them, sitting heavily on the bleachers.

* * *

Petra didn’t know Edelgard very well, but she knew her well enough to know that being benched had angered her beyond belief. The libero watched as the second set was almost a wipe, her teammates finally getting the serve back once they were down eighteen points. Each Petra she caught sight of Edelgard on the bleachers, her captain had her arms crossed and was scowling at all of the teammates on the court. It made Petra uncomfortable, but it made sense that she would be upset about losing.

Once they won the serve, Byleth called a timeout to switch in some of the players.

Even on the court, Petra could hear Byleth trying to talk Bernie down. “I’m only going to put you in for one point, then take you out. I’m not even asking you to hit the ball, I just want you to try not to scream.”

“I… I don’t think I can do it.” Bernie shrank away from her coach.

“Hey, I’ll be right next to you!” Dorothea assured.

“You’re on the other side of the line up,” Byleth said.

“Hey,” Dorothea repeated, “ _Constance_ will be right next to you!”

“Okay,” Coach said. They called out Linhardt, Ferdinand, and Hubert, switching out the team for a majority of new players. Edelgard whispered something under her breath, the coach turning to face her. “What was that, Edelgard?”

“I said that this is a waste of our time.” She motioned to the players that were called off… all of the blockers that could be considered effective. “You think that we can win like this?”

“No, I don’t,” Coach said, barely looking up. “You need to watch that attitude of yours.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me perfectly.”

Petra wouldn’t say that their coach looked _angry_ , but the energy between the two was bristling in the humid gym air, even the opposing team looking uncomfortable with the exchange. Petra was genuinely surprised that Edelgard would speak so harshly to someone older than her—teammates were one thing, but talking back to the coach? The white-haired girl huffed and Hubert looked like he was about to speak, but she caught his wrist with her hand.

Petra could hear the other team snickering as Bernie and the others took the court and she clenched her fists. Sure, they weren’t doing a good job, but they were trying their best! Constance started with the ball, hitting it underhand and right over the net. Perhaps it wasn’t as strong as the boys’, but Petra cheered knowing that it went over at all, trying to shake off the negative energy that was coming from their bench. The other team set up and she could tell that they were planning to spike it at the back line.

Her eyes widened when she realized they were aiming right at Bernie, who was stationed in the middle of the defensive line.

“Bernie!” Petra yelled, practically shoving her out of the way in order to receive the ball. Bernie shrieked, slamming into Constance who tumbled to the ground.

The ball flew up into the air, Flayn hitting it once more before Dorothea attempted to spike it over the net, accidentally hitting the net itself. The ref blew the whistle for the violation, while Petra turned to see if Bernie was okay.

Physically she looked fine, but she was also curled up on the ground, half sprawled over Constance. Dorothea hovered over them, trying to get Bernie to stand up on shaky legs.

“Ref, can we sub #30 back in for #12.” Byleth pointed to Ferdinand. “I don’t think it’s good to have her on the court at the moment.”

The referee didn’t bother to argue, letting Dorothea escort Bernie off of the court and make sure she was settled before returning to the game. Petra helped Constance off the ground, who was muttering under her breath about being pushed around.

“All for a foolish game that none of us excel in!”

“Bernie is like prey,” Petra said, “she wasn’t meaning to hurt you.”

“Okay, I’m back!” Dorothea announced. Coach Byleth was busy fretting over Bernie, making sure that she wasn’t injured in the fall. The players gathered in their own faux huddle, Dorothea awfully cheery for someone who just watched her partner take out her best friend on the court. “Let’s get _one_ point before we lose the set.”

“We won’t lose the set,” Ferdinand said. “We can take it to the third!”

“We’re losing this set,” Dorothea patted his back, “but I like the confidence, Ferdie. Ferdie… oh I forgot your last name.”

“I am Ferdinand von Aegir.”

“Stop doing that, Dorothea,” Caspar snapped.

“Doing what?”

“Pay attention to the game!” They all turned to Byleth, who raised their voice. “It’s not over yet.”

Petra and her teammates tried their best, but without having Hubert or Edelgard on the court to balance out their lack of skill, they found it difficult to break the streak that the other team was building. The two were hardly paying attention to the game, both of them too engrossed in their own whispers on the bench. Petra knew that their team didn’t ever run like a well-oiled machine, but she had no clue that they would be able to fall apart so dramatically during a game. By the time the set ended and they had lost, Petra’s arms stung from receives that never quite made their way over the net.

“You did such a good job!” Flayn stood next to her as they thanked the other team (who all seemed a bit too smug about beating Ferdinand).

“You also had a good job.” Petra smiled. Even though Flayn was the smallest on the team, she had been on the court the whole match. She was out of breath, but otherwise looked to be in good spirits. Petra wondered why her father was so insistent on not letting her on the court in the first place. She made it out in one piece—even not taking as much damage as Caspar, who had thrown himself on the ground a few times attempting to get the ball up into the air.

“So, that’s how a game plays,” Byleth said as they all circled around.

“It's _not_ how a game plays,” Edelgard said and the whole team fell silent, their chatter fading as their captain challenged the coach again. Petra could tell that the captain was fuming as Hubert stood menacingly behind her. “We barely made a dent.”

“Edelgard,” Byleth didn’t change their tone, “half of our team is brand new to the sport. They are allowed to not be as skilled as you.”

“You barely let me play.”

“We can talk about this personally before practice on Monday,” Byleth said, not letting her speak any further. “I can see that you are frustrated, but you need to have your team in mind, _Captain_.”

Petra winced. The word itself seemed to issue a challenge and she watched as Edelgard grew quiet, a fire still burning in her eyes.

“Good job everyone,” Byleth addressed the rest of them. “I took notes that we can go over during practice. For now, drive safely home and I have to call Seteth so he knows that I didn’t get his daughter killed.”

Even though the game went nowhere near flawlessly, Petra was excited. She knew that she had improved greatly in a week and that they would be holding their own by the end of the season. The ride home with Edelgard and Hubert was nearly silent, Ferdinand, Caspar, and her not daring to engage them in conversation about the game. It as an uncomfortable trip, both her and Caspar sitting next to each other in the back and even Ferdinand knew better not to attempt a conversation with the girl in the passenger’s seat. Ferdinand let whatever music Hubert put on play without complaint. It was crowded in the back with the two boys, Petra taking up the least amount of room.

“Hey, want to do homework with me, Lin, and Flayn when we get back?” Caspar leaned into her to ask the question. “You’re new here, so I don’t want you to be just going home after school every day with nothing to do.”

The suggestion warmed Petra’s heart. She didn’t mind staying at her host family’s home, but all of the children were older than her. They were fun to hang out with over the summer, but now that school had started, it was nice to make friends closer to her own age. “Yes! You have my gratitude.”

Caspar beamed back at her just as Ferdinand made the grave mistake of asking Hubert to “drive nicer.” Caspar whistled quietly, watching the disaster ensue.

“I will leave you on the side of the highway,” Hubert threatened, before turning the radio up high enough that no one could think. Edelgard sighed and looked out the window, the anger still burning in her.

Petra could only hope that their team would pull together soon, for the sake of all of their hearing.


	4. A Sunday of Chance Meetings

Bernie wasn’t used to meeting up with people outside of school. It always proved difficult with her father, but he would be at meetings all day even though it was the weekend, giving her ample time to walk around and get some fresh air without  _ too _ much worry. Dorothea was going on a date, so she wasn’t sure if she could take advantage of the time as much as she wanted to, but then Caspar had texted her out of the blue:

_ Hey Bernie!! I’m free, wanna practice receives? I will be karful _

_ *careful _

_ :) _

She didn’t know if it would be worth the risk, but she agreed to meet the boy at a park near her house. Bernie would be able to walk there and the chances of her father finding out were slim. It would be  _ terrible _ if he found out about Caspar, but maybe there would be a bit more leniency if he was a teammate. It was doubtful, but she held the sliver of comfort close to her heart.

The park was nearly empty, save for a couple of parents playing with their kids on the jungle gym. Bernie took a seat on one of the swings, swaying gently as she felt the sun on her face. She had spent the first half of the weekend talking with Coach Byleth over email, making sure there was a way that they could approach the administration without outing Bernie to her father. Dorothea had tried hard in the past, but they could never get very far as long as she was a minor. Bernie didn’t want to get her hopes up, but Byleth seemed set on getting her access to a different bathroom discretely and she was beyond grateful.

“Hey Bernie!”

Bernie nearly fell off the swing when Caspar materialized behind her.

“Don’t  _ do _ that!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Caspar said. He was wearing his usual athletic shirt and shorts, his hair still damp from a shower. He had a volleyball tucked under one arm, smiling at Bernie. If it was anyone else, she would have most likely shrinked away, but he looked excited. He held up the volleyball, “let’s get rid of your fear!”

“I don’t think it’s as simple as that.” Bernie laughed, nervously.

“It’s okay, I have plenty of time,” Caspar assured, motioning her off of the wood chips and onto the grassier area of the park. “We can practice first without the ball!”

“Without the ball?”

“Yeah, like pretend!” Caspar was talking loudly, garnering the attention of the very few people that were present. He dropped the volleyball on the ground, then continued to hold “the ball” in the air. “Here’s the ball, I’m going to toss it to you--then you receive it!”

He tossed the invisible ball up into the air towards her, but Bernie made no motion to get it.

“No! It hit the ground!” he yelled, dramatically.

“It feels silly,” Bernie said. She didn’t like drawing attention to herself and this was guaranteed to make people’s heads turn. “I don’t know where the ball is.”

“You just need to think about where it  _ would _ be,” Caspar assured. “And it  _ is _ silly, but it will train your muscles to go through the motions without thinking about it. Then it won’t be so scary when the ball comes near you, because it will just be second nature.”

Bernie doubted it would work so well, but she didn’t dare argue when Caspar sounded so sure in himself. “Okay, toss it to me again.”

“It’s by your feet, you need to throw it back over,” he said with a lopsided grin. It was so ridiculous that Bernie just  _ had _ to laugh, pretending to pick up the ball and throw it back to the boy. He caught “it” and readied himself to throw it again. “Now, remember how to anticipate the ball, just like Byleth showed you.”

Bernie clasped her hands together tightly, bending her knees like she had seen Edelgard do time and time again. “I’m ready.”

Caspar tossed the invisible ball and when Bernie felt it would have fallen, she thrust her arms upwards. He ran a few steps, jumping up in the air to catch the air. “Good! You did it!”

“It’s just invisible.”

“But you still did it,” Caspar insisted, “you hit the ball and didn’t scream or jump away, I’m proud of you.”

“Th-thanks,” Bernie stuttered out, not used to the praise from anyone except Dorothea. Caspar genuinely looked excited for her, even if he was just teasing. His energy was contagious, so she readied herself again. He began to point out how to position her arms and hit the ball so it would go straight up rather than backwards or to the side. She had to admire how he could predict the trajectory of a fake ball just by her stance. They got into a rhythm, until Bernie could practically feel the invisible ball hitting her arms--hear it as it bounced into the air.

Caspar began to chat with her. “Where’s Dorothea today?”

“She has a date,” Bernie said, taking a step forward to get a ball that was thrown a bit higher up than the last, anticipating the drop. “I didn’t have anything to do today, thank you for texting.”

“Wait, wait, I thought you were dating her.” Caspar frowned, grabbing in the air for the ball above his head.

“She’s polyamorous,” Bernie said. “We are dating, but she sees other people. I could, too, if I decided I wanted to.”

“Cool.” Caspar tossed her another ball. “That’s pretty awesome, you two are adorable. Dorothea is already calling me her ‘little brother.’”

“Does she text you?” Bernie asked with a little laugh.

“All the time.”

“She’s very outgoing. I wonder how she came to even  _ want _ to date me,” Bernie admitted. She was grateful for Dorothea--she couldn’t put into words how much she cared for her--but it was strange to think she wanted to get to know her in the first place. The quiet student who never talked to anyone in class.

“She loves you.” Caspar caught the ball this time, putting it down on the ground. “She always talks about you, always says things like ‘me and mine are going to the store.’ It’s sweet.” Caspar looked to Bernie, then picked up the real, physical ball from off the ground. “Here, put your arms out.”

“No, no,” Bernie said with wide eyes, “I don’t think I’m ready.”

“Okay, then will you just let me touch the ball to your arms,” Caspar suggested, getting close. She put her arms out and he held the ball with both hands, touching it with a bit of force to where Byleth taught her to receive the hit. “See, it’s not too bad?”

Bernie flinched hard, but stood her ground as the ball hit her arms. She looked at Caspar and his face was soft. She took a deep breath, this wasn’t someone who would purposefully hit her.

“Try a toss?” Caspar asked. “Trust me, I will throw it right here--” he touched the ball to her arms again, “--it won’t go anywhere else. Your form was good and it’s going to come right back to me.”

“Okay,” Bernie said. She was shaking but she watched as Caspar took a few steps back, tossing the ball gently in her direction.

In one movement, she received the ball.

*

It wasn’t in Hubert’s nature to open the front door when the doorbell rang. His father was always ordering,  _ something _ , and he sure wasn’t going to be the one to sign it. Edelgard would call before coming over, so he also knew that it wouldn’t be her.

When the doorbell rang six times in a row, Hubert reluctantly went to a window and caught a glimpse of orange hair.

He took a deep breath and opened the door. “What the fuck are you doing, Ferdinand?”

“I thought your doorbell wasn’t working,” Ferdinand said, pushing his stupidly smooth hair out of his face. “Did you not hear it the first few times?”

“I heard it the whole time,” Hubert said, doing his best to not just slam the door in his teammate’s face. The real question was, what  _ was _ Hubert willing to put up with today? “What do you want?”

“I have an assignment from the class you missed,” Ferdinand held up a stapled packet of papers. “Were you ignoring me?”

“Yes, I was ignoring you,” Hubert huffed. “We don’t have any classes together.”

“We do, AP Biology,” Ferdinand said.

Hubert snatched the papers out of his hand, “Hubert von Vestra” written neatly in cursive on the line. “I dropped the class.”

“Oh,” Ferdinand’s face dropped ever so slightly and Hubert almost felt bad for kicking the puppy.  _ Almost _ . “Well, the teacher told me to deliver the paper.”

“Thanks.”

They both stood on the porch, looking one another over. The unfortunate thing about Ferdinand von Aegir was that he was a wonderful volleyball player. Despite how he held himself and how much he thought he was better than Edelgard--he was skilled in his own right. That being said, the  _ last _ thing Hubert wanted was this man following him around.

“Do you… want to come in?” Hubert asked, knowing that Ferdinand had driven out to his house for nothing. Ferdinand nodded so Hubert stepped inside, letting him follow in. “I made cold brew, would you like a glass?”

“Do you have creamer?”

“Yes,” Hubert said. It was a strange feeling having someone follow him into his house that wasn’t Edelgard. Having guests was never high on his “to-do” list, even if his parents were rarely home. They were always at the office, practically slaving over Edelgard’s father. He couldn’t say that the tradition didn’t span generations. He had been by Edelgard’s side since he was a child, the only one who had stayed so long.

He took out two glasses, putting a bit of ice in each before getting the cold brew out of the fridge. Pouring them over ice, he added creamer to Ferdinand’s, lighting the color of the coffee. He liked black coffee, himself, but there was always something satisfying about watching the cream spread and branch out through the drink.

“Here.” He passed it to Ferdinand, both of them sitting down at the island. It was silent in the von Vestra home, so he could hear every clink as Ferdinand used his straw to mix the drink. 

“Thank you,” he said after taking a sip. “It’s very good.”

“Even spoiled with cream?”

“I don’t know how you could drink coffee black,” Ferdinand said, motioning to the other’s glass. “Too bitter.”

“Too sweet,” he countered.

“Did Edelgard talk to Coach yet?” Ferdinand asked. “To tell the truth, I should have also been benched. I completely underestimated the opponent.”

“You did,” Hubert said. “I don’t know why they targeted Edelgard.”

_ Even though he knew it was a lie _ . Hubert had watched as his best friend practically tore apart the members of her own team. It would have been fine if it was him, Ferdinand, or Caspar… but she was too tough on the teammates who had never played in their lives. Her frustration was understandable, but for the team’s sake, it was good that Byleth took her out.

“I think we can scrape together some plays,” Ferdinand suggested. “Petra is very athletic, she’ll be a star with a bit more practice. Dorothea was also trying her best… and Flayn had heart.”

“Constance is also a possibility,” Hubert finished, taking a sip of his coffee. The von Nuvelle, like Edelgard, was very ambitious. He knew that she could rise to the occasion if given the chance. “Then there’s Linhardt and Bernie.”

“I don’t think we could get Linhardt to care if we tried.” Ferdinand frowned. “Who knows why he’s even on the team in the first place?”

“He wanted to join,” Hubert said, knowing  _ very _ well that he had just snatched the kid at random from the bleachers the first day. “Dorothea said Bernie would be fine playing once she warms up to us, but I highly doubt that considering the  _ lungs _ on that person.” He winced, thinking about the screaming that occurred during the game.

“I know you’re friends… but can you try talking to Edelgard?” Ferdinand asked, staring at the cup in front of him. He was wiping the sweat away from the glass. “I want to win and have a good team as much as she… yet it doesn’t sit well with me that she was telling the freshman off for trying. You don’t have to, but I guess that’s another reason I came.”

Hubert was silent, not wanting to speak against Edelgard. Ferdinand shifted uneasily on the barstool, more than likely realizing that he shouldn’t have spoken up. “I’m sure the conversation with Coach will be beneficial.”

Even though he didn’t say that he agreed, Ferdinand’s face lit up. “How about the two of us start working with Dorothea and Petra? I think they’re our best bet to rounding out the team a bit more.”

“Dorothea needs to jump higher,” Hubert agreed. “If we could get her in the gym on the boxes every once in a while…”

“She’ll be an amazing spiker,” Ferdinand finished. “Then you have one more person to set up who’s tall enough to make contact.”

“If we could get Edelgard to work with Petra on diving, we can save a lot more of the rallies and make up for any mistakes in receives.”

“See, now we’re on the same page,” Ferdinand said and smiled, laughing to himself. He held out his hand for a fist bump. “Let’s talk to Coach?”

Hubert absolutely despised his use of “we” and “us,” but his smile was bright and Hubert accepted the fist bump. He didn’t want to admit it, but Ferdinand was more receptive to working individually with the players like he had suggested, only to be shot down by Edelgard. She wanted immediate results, but he could see that Ferdinand was looking at the bigger picture. And unfortunately, Hubert had to agree.

*

Edelgard didn’t  _ exactly  _ know how she ended up in bed with her teammate after two weeks, but she couldn’t say she was  _ complaining _ as Dorothea lay with her, playing with her hair and chatting as she normally would.

Well, she did know how it happened. Edelgard had been furious over the coach not letting her play and Dorothea offered to listen. By the end, the bubbly girl was promising she would be able to relax her if she came over… and the rest of the night went  _ more than _ splendidly.

“No frowning,” Dorothea said, the other not even realizing she was making a face as she thought about the coach, “Byleth is going to talk to you tomorrow and it will all work out.” Dorothea kissed her forehead and Edelgard couldn’t help but smile. She was still feeling jittery regardless of their night, and Edelgard wanted nothing more than to stay in bed with her. Dorothea, who was talkative and dramatic, but oh-so gentle when the time called for it… Edelgard could see not wanting to leave her side.

“I guess,” Edelgard said. She shifted closer on the pillow, kissing Dorothea and tangling their legs together at the ankle.

“Do you mind if I call Bern quickly to say goodnight?” Dorothea asked, nearly taking Edelgard’s breath away. In the moment, she had forgotten about her companion’s  _ partner _ . Regardless of Dorothea explaining their open relationship, she felt guilt grow in her stomach… followed quickly by a bite of jealousy.

“It’s fine.”

Dorothea let go of Edelgard and grabbed her phone off of the nightstand, but she was surprised when she went back to cuddling, putting her arm around Edelgard. “Bern? Glad you’re still up,” she said with a laugh.

Edelgard didn’t listen to most of the conversation, not wanting to intrude. Then again, Dorothea was confident enough in it not being a problem that she didn’t even leave the room. “Of course, of course,” Dorothea was still smiling, holding her hand even as she talked on the phone. “I will talk to you tomorrow, get some sleep. Love you, Bern.” She hung up, putting her phone face down on the nightstand and turning back to lay with Edelgard. “She said goodnight to you, too.”

“You mentioned me?” Edelgard asked.

“You must have been really zoned out, tired?” Dorothea asked, kissing her again.

“It’s almost as if someone did a really good job tiring me out the last couple hours,” Edelgard said with a light laugh, but then spoke the words on her mind. “You said you loved her.”

“I do.”

“Even though we just…”

“Yes,” Dorothea said with a smile.

“I didn’t know you were polyamorous before,” Edelgard said, still playing with Dorothea’s curls, “when you asked to come over I was  _ very _ surprised.”

“It’s not for everyone and it’s okay if it’s not for you, Darling,” Dorothea said. She was looking at Edelgard like she was everything and she trembled at the pet name. “But also, saying I’m interested in you is an understatement. I would love to take you on dates… but do know that I’m here because you’re a fun person to be around. I won’t go anywhere if you say no.”

“Thank you,” Edelgard said.

“I guess also a heads up, I’m really attracted to Con if you couldn’t tell.”

Edelgard thought of how the two interacted, always sharing glances and light touches. “I could tell.”

Dorothea laughed. “If you take my offer up on a date, I want everything to be out there, you know? And even if you turn me down, I still want to talk about how much of a crush I have on our dear Constance.”

“I would be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in you as well.” Edelgard joined her laughter. She had a feeling that Dorothea had the ability to charm any woman she pleased into falling in love with her. “Hubert and I couldn’t tell if you were gay from your Instagram last year.”

“Oh, Edie,” Dorothea laughed and Edelgard felt her cheeks flushing. “You are so adorable.”

“I don’t know why I said that.”

“Nothing to worry about.” Dorothea kissed the tip of her nose, then her lips. “I can’t really be out. My foster parents are really religious and I’m nearly eighteen. I’m lucky enough to stay with them even though I’m out of the system, but you just never know.”

“I’m sorry,” Edelgard whispered. She could see how much it troubled Dorothea. “They sound terrible.”

“The thing is: they’re not. Harold and Mary are the sweetest couple in the world. They never had any children, so they fostered.” Edelgard listened to Dorothea, curling into her as she spoke. She loved her melodious voice and the way her fingers danced on her body. Perhaps the promise to help her relax was sexual, but she had a feeling if Dorothea had just come over to talk, it would have worked all the same. “I don’t even think they would be cruel enough to kick me out for not dating men. I just really don’t think they could look past the polyamory, and it weighs on me more than I would like to admit.”

“I’m sorry, this really isn’t a good conversation for pillow talk, is it?” Edelgard laughed nervously.

“It’s okay, I want to get to know you,” Dorothea assured.

“My father doesn’t know I’m bi,” Edelgard said, feeling like she at least owed a glimpse into her own situation. “Things have been…  _ strained _ since my mom left, though, so it’s best not to bring up another thing to worry about. Then my siblings took off--and now it’s just me.”

“Perhaps it’s not much, but I’m here for you,” Dorothea promised.

“The same for you.” Edelgard yawned.

“My angel is sleepy,” she kissed the top of her head. “Get some rest.”

Edelgard adjusted herself in Dorothea’s arms. “A warning: sometimes I get nightmares. They’re…” she wasn’t used to having someone share her bed, “intense. So, I’m sorry.”

“Well, hopefully you will have good dreams tonight,” Dorothea whispered. “If not, it’s nothing that I can’t help you with. Don’t apologize.”

As she drifted off to sleep, listening to Dorothea’s soft breathing, Edelgard knew she would be making a terrible mistake if she didn’t give her feelings for the girl a try. The warmth was too much to pass up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun announcement for all you sports AU fans! A wonderful team of writers (including me) are working on a HUGE Three Houses Olympics AU!
> 
> My personal piece is centered on Hubert, Annette, and Mercedes, who are participating in the tennis event! We've all been working super hard, so if you would like to support us (before the pieces drop on ao3 this summer) make sure to check out @ Fodlan_Olympics on Twitter!
> 
> It was such a blessing to be asked to join this project, so get ready for it--I've really been putting my all into the piece <3


	5. Practice Makes Perfect

“New rule,” Byleth said immediately as they entered the gym. “Any lewd comments get two laps around the gym--Seteth told me I can’t make you pay, I wanted to make a dollar jar.”

“Why are you looking at me, Coach?” Dorothea crossed her arms.

“You’re the only one who has proved to be a problem.”

“What I have said on this court is  _ nothing  _ compared to what I have said in the bedr—” Dorothea paused, thoughtful. “See, I stopped myself.”

“Someone is going to be running a lot,” Linhardt whistled. It had only been a week since their first, disastrous match, but his team was already working a bit more on their weakest points.

Perhaps it was easier to count the things they were  _ good  _ at, because the list of weaknesses seemed to be never-ending. Linhardt didn’t want to be there, Edelgard was too pushy, Hubert was terrifying, Caspar was loud, Ferdinand was Ferdinand, Petra was still learning volleyball, Dorothea had her brain elsewhere, Flayn wasn’t very athletic, Bernie was terrified of the ball, and he wasn’t sure if Constance understood the rules.

They truly made a wonderful, non-functioning team.

“Linhardt, you have to participate today,” was the next point on Coach’s list.

He yawned at the thought. “I had an  _ exhausting  _ day at school, Coach, I’m not sure if that is a possibility.”

“You slept through sixth period English,” Caspar pointed out. “That was an hour nap.”

“More than an hour is needed,” Linhardt was honestly quite tired of the team  _ expecting  _ things out of him, they should have just been happy that they had enough players to even have a team in the first place. “All I’m saying is you should respect my energy levels.”

“You will participate,” Byleth repeated. “If I do not see an improvement in your willingness to do so, we will start having gym days.” Most of the team groaned at the thought of having to share the weight room with the football players. It seemed like a cruel punishment, Linhardt had to admit. “Final announcement before we start practice: our next game is next Friday.”

“Tomorrow?” Ferdinand asked.

“ _ Next _ Friday.”

Byleth got them started on drills, pairing up Linhardt with the ever-screaming Caspar, Dorothea “Coach, I think this is homophobic” Arnault, and Bernie, who was still genuinely terrified of the ball. They were still working on receiving the serve, which Coach put Caspar in charge of.

Linhardt was surprised when Bernie got one or two hits in with a minimal amount of screaming. He, himself, could still barely get the ball into the air.

“Lin, I think you have to try a bit harder, just apply upward pressure,” Dorothea said, making the motion with her arms. “If we end up in the gym surrounded by the football team… I don’t think I would ever forgive you.”

“It comes in too hard,” Linhardt whined.

“I, for one, know how to deal with hard things—”

“Dorothea, two laps,” Byleth commanded, sniping her comment from across the gym.

“You weren’t kidding about that?” Dorothea looked confused.

“Get running.”

“O-kay,” Caspar said, turning back to Linhardt. As Dorothea reluctantly began her laps. “Would it help if we try to do this a bit in motion? I know you’re not a fan of… anything… but volleyball can be really fun if you just try a  _ bit _ .”

“Oh, I’m a fan of plenty things,” Linhardt waved him off. “Just because it’s not something  _ you  _ deem useful doesn’t mean I don’t have hobbies.”

“Napping is a bit of a boring hobby,” Bernie squeaked out.

“I do more than sleep.”

“C’mon, let’s set up the drill,” Coach came over. “I really thought you four would be less of a troublesome group.” They nodded their head in the direction of Edelgard, Constance, and Ferdinand arguing over something, but even then they were still getting the drill done. It was truly remarkable, Linhardt thought. “Do you have a drill, Caspar?”

“Yeah,” the boy said, perking up that the coach was asking him for help. So Caspar set them up in a drill. One person would toss the ball into play, it would be received by the second player, then the third would try to get it over the net. When the play was done, they would switch places. Dorothea joined halfway through the explanation, watching as the three of them ran through the drill before she could join.

“Makes sense? Take it from the top.” Coach clapped their hands together.

“I don’t even have the ball,” Dorothea said, before realizing the words that came out of her mouth, “I am going to go run now.”

“Yes, you are.” Linhardt sighed at the thought of running when Coach looked at  _ him _ . “If I don’t see an effort from you, you will be running with her.”

Linhardt watched as Dorothea worked on her third lap of the day, somehow managing to get Ferdinand to say his full name once more as she went by. The last thing he wanted was to be dragged around the gym in circles by her, so he looked to the drill. “I’ll toss the ball first.”

“Okay!” Caspar yelled, making him wince. “Toss it to me!”

Linhardt threw the ball into the air, watching as Caspar adjusted himself, bending his knees and sending the ball straight upwards. Bernie looked like for a fleeting moment she was going to try to touch the ball, but she shied away at the last moment and it hit the gym floor.

“We can work on it,” Byleth said. “Bernie, you don’t have to spike it if you don’t want to, but we have to try to get it over the net. It’s the same as receiving, but you want to angle your arms like this and push the momentum forward.” They demonstrated, holding their arms out. “Dorothea, welcome back.”

“A pleasure,” she said, slightly out of breath this time. “Where do I come in?”

“You’re going to toss,” Byleth said, waiting for a comment.

“I’m just going to play quietly so I can’t mess up,” Dorothea said, winking. “I also thought of about three jokes that could go with that, but I kept them to myself, are you proud of me?”

“Of course,” Coach said, clearly unimpressed. “I’ll leave it to Caspar.”

The drill took a bit to get into, but Linhardt found it easy once he figured out he was tall enough to simply hit the ball over the net without much effort. Caspar and Bernie would have to jump high into the air for a spike and even Dorothea would need to leap to push the ball over the net—but he could simply raise up onto his toes and hit the ball at the other end of the court. Even better, this seemed to please the coach and get them off of his back.

Linhardt didn’t even notice that with hitting the ball over the net, he had become one of the top three spikers on the team. Lovely.

*

“Flayn,” Hubert said after she had done her best to keep the ball up in the rally, accidentally letting it bounce off into the bleachers, “you’re not anticipating where the ball is going to land.”

“Anticipating?”

“You’re standing too stiff while the ball is coming,” Hubert continued. “Bend your knees and stay a bit lighter on your feet—you’ll be able to get to where it falls faster.”

“Dorothea has been running for long,” Petra pointed out, their friend taking yet another lap around the court as Byleth looked increasingly disappointed with her. “Why is she doing so many runs?”

“She’s only running because she’s—” Hubert looked like he had  _ several  _ things to say about his teammate, but he swallowed the words. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s run through the drill one more time, Freshmen.”

Flayn wasn’t sure what to think of the man, but despite his harshness when correcting them, she could tell that he was doing his best to help them improve. It was much more than their captain was doing, considering that Edelgard was only working closely with those she thought had  _ potential _ . Hubert, Ferdinand, and Caspar seemed more willing to help the team as a whole, rather than the stand-out players.

They ran through the drill—Flayn receiving the ball, Hubert setting it, and then giving a chance for Petra to attempt a spike. Petra was getting better at jumping, but even so, her work with Edelgard that week at practice had been much more beneficial. She was learning how to dive for the ball, throwing herself onto the court as a last-ditch effort to get the ball lifted into the air. Both her and Edelgard had bruises after a week of practice, but the coach seemed confident in Petra’s abilities. Flayn knew if  _ she  _ came home bearing the same marks, her father would have her pulled immediately from the team.

“Much better,” Hubert said after they had gotten the ball over. Petra gave her a high five and she nearly leapt in joy. “I want to show both of you what to do if you’re the third hit on the ball. Without the option to set, it becomes imperative to get the ball over the net.”

Flayn nearly tripped when she got back to the line for the drill, Petra laughing. “Have caution.”

“Thank you,” Flayn said.

“You are not allowed to get hurt, I wouldn’t want to have harm come to your father.”

“I have belief that  _ you  _ would be harmed,” Petra said.

Hubert laughed and Flayn winced. “Hopefully we won’t have to find out.”

“Cut that out,” Byleth said as they did their rounds between groups. “Hubert, can I not put you with the freshmen?”

“The children are fine, look at them.” He motioned. Flayn pouted at being called a  _ child _ , but she kept her head held high. “Thriving.”

“If Flayn gets hurt, I’m the first one out of a job,” Byleth pointed out, tapping their clipboard, “and I want her on my hockey team, so don’t get her injured.”

“Compelling.”

“Okay, Flayn,” Byleth turned to her. “I noticed when you were playing that you seemed to be making contact strangely, What’s your dominant hand?”

“I’m  _ polyam _ bidextrous,” Dorothea announced from across the courts, sending a ripple of groans from her team members. “Shut up, that one was funny.”

“One lap,” Byleth urged.

“That’s just homophobic, Coach. There’s nothing inherently sexual about being—”

“Lap for the pun, not for a lewd comment,” Byleth cut her off. Flayn was glad to see a ghost of a smile on her cousin’s face. They had been so upset by their hockey career being stolen from them, but it was good to see some of their banter and enjoyment come as they were coaching. 

“Dorothea is on the run again,” Petra observed. “Coach, why is she running?”

“You don’t want to know, too young,” Byleth frowned at their clipboard. “What was I doing?”

“I was hitting the ball strangely,” Flayn said.

“ _ Right _ ,” Byleth said. “So, which hand do you write with?” An argument erupted, Ferdinand and Edelgard borderline yelling at one another. “Ferdinand, over here,” Coach said, snapping their fingers. The boy tried to argue, but Byleth shook their head. “None of that. Over here, now. Petra, please go with Edelgard and Constance.”

“Don’t put him with me,” Hubert said, also hushed by Byleth.

“Flayn, Hubert! We are having a team sleep—”

“No,” Hubert said.

“Would you be quiet? I want to hear!” Flayn urged. Hubert looked incredulous at her reaction, but let Ferdinand talk. “What was that?”

“This weekend, I want to have a team sleepover at my house! We could use it as a type of team bonding.” Ferdinand was beaming, clearly proud of his idea. “Of course, I would be the wonderful host and—”

“I can talk to your father about it,” Byleth assured, letting Ferdinand continue his long ramble about how wonderful his house was and how they would have the veritable time of their lives sleeping there. “He’s not going to let you go with all the boys.”

“I wish he would leave me be,” Flayn said, doing her best not to pout. She loved her father, but sometimes he could get too overprotective. Well, it was more than “could,” but she had gotten onto a sports team and that was a first. He even let her hang out with the others after school, so she prayed that she would be allowed to participate in the team bonding.

“Enough talking,” Byleth finally cut Ferdinand off. “Boys, you’ve been doing a good job at teaching the new players, don’t think that your effort hasn’t gone unnoticed.” They messed with Flayn’s hair. “And you are improving so quickly, be proud. I need to talk to some of the other players, but keep it up.”

Flayn beamed as her cousin walked away, glad to be making improvements.

*

Byleth looked at their clipboard with the directions from Seteth and called Dorothea over to the bleachers.

“I have learned my lesson, I am  _ trying _ ,” Dorothea said with a smile. “These things just naturally roll off of my tongue.”

“While it is very entertaining to make you run, you do need to be a bit more careful,” Byleth said with a sigh. “I know that you are among friends, but you risk making people uncomfortable and pushing boundaries.”

Dorothea gave a thumbs up. “I will be more careful.”

“Thank you. I actually wanted to talk to you about college.” They watched as Dorothea’s face grew dark. “Your guidance counselor asked for me to speak to you--”

“It doesn’t concern you,” their player said, with a shocking amount of strength behind her words, “I understand that you’re trying to look out for me, but I’m more than capable of making my own decision.”

“Unfortunately, I do not have much of a choice. She told me that you refused to submit a decision plan. I looked at your grades and they are very good. Even if there are financial problems, please apply to county. The chances of getting the aid you need are very high.” Byleth felt uncomfortable prying into Dorothea like this, but the administration had made it clear that there seemed to be something else stopping her. They were hoping that her coach could make a difference, but Byleth could already see that they held no favor in Dorothea’s eyes. “You’re a smart girl.”

“Look,” Dorothea said, crossing her arms. “If you  _ must  _ know, I’m in the foster system. I turn eighteen this month and after that, I’m out. My current foster parents have been offering to help me with college expenses, but I’m not out to them. I have a sinking feeling that I can  _ never  _ come out to them, but I’m also not going to lie to them for the next four years for my benefit.”

Byleth sighed. They felt bad for bringing it up, but they hoped it was worth a shot. “I don’t want to impose myself on you. I am here to talk if you need it and I can help you navigate the financial things if you change your mind.”

“Thank you,” Dorothea said, but body language didn’t change. Byleth was used to upsetting people for various reasons, mostly involving their lack of desire to share things about themself, but it wasn’t right to make Dorothea hurt more than she was.

“I take it I shouldn’t have the college conversation with Constance either?” They looked at their paper. Constance von Nuvelle was another one of the seniors that refused to talk about her graduation plans or submit any indication that she was applying.

“She does not have the money,” Dorothea said. “I don’t care if it’s required of you. I will quit the team if you try to give Con false hope.”

“Noted,” Byleth said, signing the form to say that they had the conversation with both of the team members. “Constance, too—I am always open to listening.”

“That’s sweet,” Dorothea said.

“Edelgard’s attitude has changed for the better, thank you,” Byleth added, hoping to at least end the conversation off on a positive note. “You talked to her, I can tell. You have a way with words.”

“That  _ is  _ what most women say,” Dorothea clicked her tongue, a bit of her usual attitude coming back. Byleth thanked whoever was watching above that they didn’t break her. They didn’t even send her on a lap for the jab. “No hard feelings, but I need some space.”

“That is fair,” Byleth assured, “my offer always stands.”

They watched as Dorothea rejoined the practice game, insisting that Ferdinand sit out so that she could have time on the court. Byleth took a deep breath, attempting to steady themself. It was a strange feeling, wanting to protect all ten members of their team. Usually it would take months if not years for them to get to know others, but seeing each of the teenagers every day and helping them learn the game… it really did feel like they were picking up on all their personalities very easily. 

It was more terrifying than they would have liked to admit that they were this attached. It would just be this one season, then Ferdinand, Hubert, Constance, Edelgard, and Dorothea would already be gone. Even when Edelgard had been pissed at them, they had left the conversation off on a good note and Byleth felt like they had truly understood one another.

They knew too well how it was so easy to lose everything. They went out on the ice one night, after all, not even knowing that it would be the last time that they would play hockey. Perhaps volleyball didn’t hold the same prestige as their hockey career, but they had played it all through high school, as well. They hated not being able to hit the ball, not being able to play alongside the teammates that were slowly becoming a constant in their life.

“Petra!” Edelgard called out as she dove for the ball, the freshman sliding onto the court and getting the ball back up into the air. Edelgard set it and Constance (although it wasn’t a spike) got it right over the net. Byleth smiled to themself, clapping their hands.

“Nice teamwork!”

It was strange being on the coaching end of the sport. There was so much planning, and one word too many or too less could send a player spiraling. They had seen it with Edelgard the first game, watching the anger rise in the proud girl as she sat out on the bleachers. It didn’t feel  _ good  _ to bench her, but Byleth knew it was the best option at the time.

“Hey, Edelgard!” they called out. “Good form and support. Keep this up and you’re going to kill it.”

And as Edelgard smiled at them, the blush staining her cheeks ever-so-slightly, they knew that it was worth it to get these kids to their best potential, even if it meant the work and fears that came with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Quali for the polyam pun (as well as Reun for starting it, Lina for also contributing way too many, and the rest of the Fodlan Olympics team for joining in and/or watching this happen)! These puns are all Dorothea could ever want!
> 
> Also, as this is the first update since, this work is now part of a series! Volleyball AU was always meant to be a spin off/companion to my dearest friend's hockey AU with the Blue Lions (and some of our favorite wolves). Please check out "The Mighty Lions" for more of Coach Byleth as well as Flayn!


	6. Sleep Tight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for descriptions of a panic attack in the second part after the scene break!

“I will be picking her up at nine p.m., she is not to be left alone in a room with any of the boys and—”

“Father!”

“Flayn will be under my protection!” Petra assured, standing next to Ferdinand as he waited in the foyer, Seteth scrutinizing where his darling Flayn would be spending the next six hours, perhaps eight if they were to get the deadline on the sleepover extended. “You will have not worries.”

“Dorothea will be arriving soon,” Ferdinand added. “She won’t allow anyone near your daughter.”

“Call me if something goes wrong.”

“I know, you gave me your number,” Ferdinand said.

“Okay, Flayn, have fun.” Seteth seemed satisfied enough with the situation, although he muttered, “I must have made some grave mistake,” as he walked out the door.

“I am so embarrassed by his behavior!” Flayn said as soon as he walked out the door. “First, he will not allow me to sleepover and he continues to _baby_ me.”

“Coach Byleth had to forge a document for a team field trip to get Bernie out of the house for the weekend, it’s okay,” Ferdinand assured, feeling sorry for the girl. It was never a good feeling to be kept from gaining independence, especially when most of her friends were older. “We won’t tell the others about it.”

Flayn thanked them and they were about to head downstairs when there was insistent knocking at the door.

“Ferdie!” Dorothea cheered, several bags flung over her shoulders. “Oh my _god_ I got an undercut, feel it.”

He was basically stormed by his teammate, who flipped her head over to reveal she had indeed shaved half of the thick hair off.

“It looks splendid,” he said.

“No, feel it.”

Ferdinand couldn’t tell if it was a joke, but he ran his fingers over the shaved part a few times, relishing the feeling of the buzzed hair. Although he liked Dorothea, she always seemed to be teasing him. She also for some reason could never remember his full name (he was Ferdinand von Aegir) and she also seemed to be cheating on her partner with their very own captain.

He didn’t quite know yet how to deal with the last point. He didn’t want to upset Bernie, but he also felt like it was his duty to tell her that he saw Dorothea kissing Edelgard after classes. Ferdinand would figure out a way to bring it up.

“Dorothea, please allow us to step fully inside and close the door,” Constance urged, rubbing at her arms. She was without a bag and Ferdinand assumed that her friend was carrying it. Dorothea flipped her hair back over, laughing. “Apologies for our delay,” Constance continued, “it took my friend longer than he thought to dye my hair.”

“Your hair is dyed?” Ferdinand asked.

“No, the purple is natural,” Dorothea laughed, closing the door behind them. “Con was born with blonde hair and the back of it has always been purple and it has _nothing_ to do with Yurikins and the salon he runs out of his basement.”

“Huh?” Ferdinand frowned.

“Dorothea is having a joke,” Petra said, putting her hand on his shoulder. “Hair does not grow rainbow.”

“Awh, Ferdie, this is going to be so much fun,” Dorothea put her hand on his _other_ shoulder. “I’m _so_ glad that you live in a house that could pay for _three_ of my college tuitions.”

That comment in particular seemed pointed, so Ferdinand let it be and showed the girls to where everyone was going to be hanging out for the majority of the sleepover. The stairs to the finished basement were right off of the kitchen, easy enough to get to. He had several extra mattresses for an influx of guests and there was something less-appealing about everyone having their own guest room (he could nearly accomplish the feat if some people were willing to share). It didn’t seem like the proper high school experience, so he had just gotten the piles of sheets and blankets and brought them downstairs into one of the recreational rooms. There was a TV so they could watch movies, along with video game systems.

“Guys, feel my undercut!” Dorothea ran past Ferdinand, practically throwing herself into Caspar’s lap as he tried to play Mario Kart against Bernie and Hubert. Bernie was kicking both of the boys’ asses as Caspar spiraled into last place with Dorothea’s distraction.

“What are you? A cat?!” He yelled, trying to slide away from Dorothea while still having his eyes “on the road.”

“It suits you well, Dorothea,” Edelgard said, getting closer and gently tickling the back of Dorothea’s head with the tips of her fingernails. Ferdinand had been surprised when Edelgard didn’t show up in heels (the business casual she wore for school was particularly strange at times—not like him or Hubert didn’t also dress cleanly, but Edelgard dressed for an office job). Her weekend attire was much more in line with what she wore to practice. “How does it look up? I was considering cutting my own hair, but it seems kind of risky.”

“I’m losing because of you, Dorothea!” Caspar continued to complain, trying to shake her off.

“Shut up,” Dorothea said, before turning to Edelgard. “Oh, Edie, please do it! It would be _so_ attractive.”

Ferdinand looked incredulously between Dorothea, Edelgard, and Bernie, but none of them looked bothered by the comment. Perhaps it was okay, it was just Dorothea’s usual flirtatious comments, was it not? Bernie reached over and also played with her girlfriend’s hair, Dorothea beaming.

“Is something troubling you, Ferdinand?” Hubert asked, turning as he finished the final lap on the screen. “You look like something tragic has occurred.”

“It is nothing,” Ferdinand assured. “I have my phone, can we start trying to get a pizza order together?”

“I had not seen you there,” Petra said, nearly sitting on Linhardt, who was curled up on the coach and half buried under several jackets. “Are you hiding?”

“Sleeping,” Linhardt said. Ferdinand had been surprised to even get the sophomore to come to a sleepover, though perhaps his favorite pastime _was_ present in the name.

“Dorothea, do you want to try?” Bernie asked, passing her controller to her girlfriend. “I-I think Caspar is going to kill me if I beat him again.”

“I would never,” he assured, before turning to Dorothea. “You made me lose! You’re going down!”

“Okay, Cas.” She laughed taking up the controller. “Unlike _you_ I can actually drive, so we’ll see.” She winked.

“Ferdinand,” Hubert said, pushing the controller into his hands as Caspar defended his nearly nonexistent driving skills, “you can take my spot.”

“I can get out another controller, Flayn can take this one.” He passed it off to the girl, whose face lit up. He crawled forward, opening up the drawer and grabbing one of the other joycons for the Switch. “And for Petra.”

“I will be driving?” she asked.

“I can show you!” Bernie volunteered, joining where Petra was on the couch, now crowding Linhardt in his little nest. Constance took a seat next to Edelgard, the captain smiling as she showed off her new hair. Ferdinand found himself with a pleasant expression on his face as well, it was nice. He felt like he had done something to get the ragtag group of players to interact off the courts. It took them a half an hour debate to get pizza ordered, which resulted in enough pies to feed a small country instead of a volleyball team, but it wasn’t going on Ferdinand’s personal card anyway.

The night went by quickly, most of it passing in rounds of Mario Kart and Smash Brothers. The team also let Ferdinand show them his Animal Crossing island, which he had been working hard on since it came out. Bernie promised to play with him and they even convinced Linhardt to share his friend code in between his naps. It was a pleasant night, especially as everyone relaxed. It felt less like “team bonding” and more like just friends hanging out with one another.

Ferdinand had gone upstairs many hours later to get ready for bed, noticing that there was someone in the kitchen on the way back to the basement. His friends were allowed to explore his house as they pleased as long as they stayed away from the bar—he didn’t want to risk drunken shenanigans with such young team members. He didn’t want to be a bad influence on the freshmen.

He could see that it was Bernie in the kitchen, hard to make out in the uplighting of the cabinets.

“Midnight coffee run?” Ferdinand asked, effectively making Bernie scream and nearly drop the glass she was holding.

“No, just water,” Bernie whispered, panicked. “And it’s not midnight yet, is it?”

Ferdinand looked over to the display on the clock, it was already ten minutes to one in the morning. Everyone was awake save Linhardt and Constance, both of which had fallen asleep early. He was surprised to see that Bernie had ventured to the kitchen without Dorothea, but he knew that this would be his time if any to check. “It’s almost one already. The night really flew by.”

“It did,” Bernie said, looking like she was trying to find a way to escape the room.

“This might be inappropriate of me to ask, but are you and Dorothea still together?” he finally said, watching as Bernie jumped at his words. He felt bad; they must have had a terrible break up for her to be this upset—

“Yes?” Bernie said, furrowing her brows. It was difficult to make out the rest of her expression in the dim lighting of the kitchen. “I-I’m not… really interested in you, Ferdinand.”

“No, no!” Ferdinand’s eyes widened, feeling his face flush at his accidental implications. “That’s not what I meant! It’s just that—” he cleared his throat before speaking as gentle as he could, “I think Dorothea is cheating on you… I just wanted you to know.”

He was ready to comfort her, but she just nodded slowly. “She is also dating Edelgard… so she’s not cheating.”

“Oh, she’s…” Ferdinand trailed off. “She’s what?”

“And with that Ferdie, you have cornered my partner in the kitchen,” Dorothea showed up at the top of the stairs, crossing the room to stand by Bernie. “Sweet of you to think I would cheat, I really thought we had some sort of trust by now.”

“It was not my intention to doubt you,” Ferdinand huffed. He didn’t understand why Dorothea was taking his words so personally. “I was just looking out for Bernie.”

“I thank you for that,” she said, “but you also don’t _listen_ , Ferdie. You really thought you could play the hero on this one.”

“That was also not what my plans were,” he assured. “I’m sorry, Dorothea.”

She looked genuinely surprised at his apology, which hurt. He didn’t understand why so many of his teammates seemed to believe he was incapable of owning up to his mistakes.

“I think I got a little frustrated, it’s late,” Dorothea backed down. “Thank you for watching out for my partner, but it’s an open relationship.”

“I see,” he said. “No hard feelings? I’ll let you pick the movie next time.”

Dorothea smiled. “I hope your ready to watch ‘But I’m a Cheerleader.’”

“I have never heard of it.”

“I know and that’s the biggest misfortune,” Dorothea said, taking Bernie’s hand. “Let’s head back downstairs?”

Ferdinand exhaled, glad that he hadn’t accidentally ruined his relationship with nearly half of the volleyball team. Dorothea brushed his hair from his eyes as they made their way down the stairs, so he assumed that all was forgiven. He still didn’t _quite_ understand what was happening between the three of them, but maybe Hubert would be willing to explain it to him if he asked kindly.

*

Dorothea was jolted awake by a short shriek from Edelgard and blankets being thrashed against her.

“Hey, hey,” she instinctively said, putting her arms around the woman she had been sharing a mattress with. “Edie, are you okay?”

Edelgard didn’t respond, her breathing quick and heavy, a small whine reaching her lips as she buried her face into Dorothea’s chest. She remembered the warning Edelgard had given her the first night they had shared a bed, the texts that she had sent in the mornings about not getting much sleep. Nightmares.

“Edie, it’s okay, nothing can hurt you,” she urged, but her breathing didn’t improve. Dorothea looked around the room, several of their teammates sitting up from where they were stationed on mattresses and couches. The last thing she wanted was for Edelgard to feel their eyes on her, so she whispered. “Do you want to get some water with me? I can help you.”

She nodded and Dorothea untangled them from the sheets, basically lifting her girlfriend to her feet. Dorothea waved off Ferdinand, doing her best not to make the biggest scene. She helped Edelgard into the bathroom, flipping on the light and lifting her onto the counter where she would be able to hold her easily. Dorothea kissed her forehead, looking her in the eyes.

“Whatever it was, it wasn’t real. I have you, please don’t worry,” she urged. Edelgard nodded, but the tears were streaming down her face and her breaths were still hiccuping in her throat. Dorothea felt her stomach sink, not sure if this was something she needed more help with. She wasn’t sure if Edelgard was prone to panic attacks, so she just held onto her and continued to whisper assurances into her ears. Edelgard gripped lightly onto the back of her shirt, every once and a while gasping for breath as if her life depended on it.

Dorothea herself was beginning to panic, unsure if there was a way to cheer up her girlfriend. All she could do was rub her back as she shook, not sure if she should even ask what the nightmare was about. She felt lost, feeling her own heart race up at the thought of not being able to help.

Just when she was going to go get someone, there was a light knock at the door. Edelgard’s eyes shot towards the door, wide in fear.

“It’s Hubert,” a voice said. Dorothea never thought she would be _glad_ to hear that voice, but she opened the door. He walked right past her and went to the counter where Edelgard was hunched over. “You’re okay, Edelgard. Nothing can hurt you.”

Edie looked at him and then tackled him into a hug. Hubert wrapped his arms around her, letting her bury her face into his chest. “You’re going to be okay. Take a deep breath. Do you want to go outside?”

“No,” Edelgard said, muffled by his shirt. “I’m sorry, Dorothea.”

“Dorothea is fine, right?” Hubert asked, shooting Dorothea a threatening look as if she would say it wasn’t okay.

“Don’t worry about me, Edie,” Dorothea said, running a hand through her hair. Slowly but surely her sharp inhales turned into muffled cries and Dorothea’s heart broke despite the relief.

“Go upstairs and get a glass for water,” Hubert directed and she listened.

Dorothea didn’t realize that she had been shaking as well until she was holding the glass precariously between both of her hands not to spill it. She had gotten better over the past year helping Bernie with any type of problem she had, but she had never expected such intense and potent emotions from Edelgard. She wanted to be the one to help her no matter what, but she had failed.

When she returned to the bathroom after promising those awake in the other room that Edelgard would be okay and that it was under control, Hubert and Edelgard had moved to the floor. Their backs were against the bathtub and Hubert had his arm around Edelgard. He was holding up his phone, Edelgard watching some sort of painting time lapse to calming music.

“Please drink at least three sips,” he said, both him and Dorothea helping her hold the glass of water before collapsing back into Hubert’s shirt, half asleep as the video continued. He waved his phone gently at Dorothea, “something to distract her from the nightmares. The water helps her get a better grip on being physically grounded, the same with holding her,” he continued, as if reading off of a list. “Sometimes she needs fresh air, which is also helpful. This is also embarrassing for her, so she’ll need assurance when she wakes up that this wasn’t a problem… which it wasn’t.”

“It would never be a problem,” Dorothea whispered as she sunk down on the bathmat in front of them, not liking the threatening tone that Huber had adapted. “Thank you.”

“I tell you these things because they have worked for me since we were children,” he said, adjusting as Edelgard fell practically limp at his side. “She is strong, but there are things that haunt her. It makes her no less of a powerful person.”

“I never doubted her,” she promised. “I just,” he voice broke, but she pushed through it, “I wouldn’t have been able to calm her down like you did. I didn’t know how to help.”

“You did the best that you could.”

“I should have been there for her.”

“You were. As was I.” Hubert turned off his phone, beginning to lift Edelgard to her feet. She was still half awake, but he lifted her into a princess carry as if she weighed nothing. “Don’t blame yourself, Dorothea. I have known Edelgard for my whole life, you have not. We both have different relationships with her… what were you saying? _Two hands?_ ”

The last part was said with a chuckle and Dorothea relaxed. “Two hands,” she repeated. “I never thought today would end with _Hubie_ comforting me.”

“Edelgard likes you,” he said as they left the bathroom, “so if you’re going to be around, I want her in the best hands.”

“Thank you,” Dorothea said. They tiptoed back into the room, getting Edelgard settled before they _both_ joined her on the mattress on the floor.

 _Ah yes. My girlfriend. And her six foot two inches tall, goth, best friend._ Dorothea nearly laughed to herself as she nestled herself into the blankets. She took a deep breath herself, doing her best to settle. She was glad that Edelgard had a friend like Hubert. It was what she deserved, after all.

  
  



	7. Goddess Take the Wheel

By the time Constance wandered into the kitchen for coffee, Hubert and Ferdinand were already arguing over several breakfast-related subjects.

“Constance, do you… shake your eggs before or after they have cooking?” Petra asked as Constance took a seat at the island next to her.

“You scramble the eggs in a bowl before you put them in the pan,” Hubert corrected, glaring at Ferdinand that would be enough to terrify anyone into agreeing with him. Except for a certain red-head.

“The eggs still scramble if you do it in the pan!” he insisted. “I’m sorry that I’m not doing it your way, but I think it will be fine.”

“Good…morning?” Constance offered. Hubert growled at Ferdinand, before focusing his efforts on getting mugs off coffee out to everyone that was awake. He was putting them in identical mugs, which nearly made her laugh. She was so used to her own apartment with only three mismatched mugs. Hubert lined them up on the counter, going down the line to get coffee orders. He only scoffed a  _ bit  _ when Caspar claimed he didn’t like coffee. Ferdinand had also started to make pancake mix—she was surprised that the man could cook  _ anything  _ by himself.

“Good morning,” Edelgard said, coming down the stairs. She looked better than she had during the middle of the night, but Constance could recognize the tired look in her eyes. As much as she related to being haunted by nightmares, she didn’t feel like it would be a good idea to attempt comfort. “Ferdinand. Your eggs are burning.”

“I would  _ never  _ burn—” he turned to the pan “—shit.”

“Pay attention,” Hubert growled, but he passed the first mug of coffee to the captain.

Slowly, each of the teammates made their way into the kitchen as Ferdinand got breakfast out with varying levels of success. Dorothea was the last to enter the kitchen.

“You look fancy,” Edelgard said, somehow ignoring Hubert and Ferdinand arguing over how to make pancakes and instead turned to Dorothea. She was wearing a light pink sun dress, her shoulders covered by a white sweater. Her heels clicked on the floors as she took a seat between Bernie and Constance, kissing Bernie on the cheek.

“Thank you, Sunday best,” Dorothea explained, still pinning bits of her hair back to keep the curls from getting in front of her face. “Can’t skip a week, unfortunately. Thank you, Ferdie.” She looked to the plate of pancakes placed in front of her. “What’s your family’s name so mine can pick me up?”

“Von—”

“Cut it.” Hubert nearly slammed a mug on the counter, interrupting the other’s grand flourish. “Dorothea, have I ever mentioned you tend to be  _ unbearable _ ?”

Dorothea just shrugged, rolling her eyes and taking the cup of coffee that Hubert had offered. Constance watched as she brought the mug to her lips, shamelessly staring at her friend. Seeing her and Edelgard the night before had made her more jealous than she cared to admit. She was grateful for Dorothea’s support, regardless of if it was romantic or not, but seeing her at ease with her two partners solidified some of the fluttering feelings that had followed her for months.

“I can drive you,” Constance offered, taking the chance presented. “I have my car, then Harold and Mary don’t have to worry about picking you up.”

“Thank you, Con!” she beamed, taking another sip of her coffee. “Perhaps it will be easier than having them wander the neighborhood.”

The impulsive feeling followed her as she packed up her bag from the night and drove to the small church that Dorothea would go to weekly with her foster parents. Even though Constance visited her house regularly, she had never been to the church… even Dorothea wouldn’t speak much about the masses themselves—just that Harold and Mary were very religious. She parked in the lot, watching the families with young children in nice clothes

“Thank you, Darling,” Dorothea said, getting out of the car. “I will see you tomorrow at—”

“Would it be favorable if I came with you?” Constance asked, not wanting to see her leave so soon. Perhaps it was selfish—they had spent the entire weekend with one another. Yuri had teased her about  _ her  _ girl, as he was washing the dye out of her hair. “I am interested in seeing a mass, I don’t believe I have ever been.”

Dorothea smiled, a gentle warmth washing over her. “Of course. I do have to warn you, it’s a bit boring… but a nice, quiet hour.”

They met Harold and Mary, Constance feeling terribly under-dressed in the sweatshirt that Hapi had lent her. The church building itself was bathed in a soft light, the sun filtering through tall, stained glass windows. Dorothea instructed her on the basics: keep her phone on silent, follow the rest of the crowd, don’t talk during the mass. When the music began, they all stood, watching as the priest entered the building. She was surprised by the beauty in which Dorothea sang the hymns. Of course, it was clear that she was an amazing singer, she didn’t expect her to know the words and melody so well.

Constance stayed quiet during the entire mass, taking cues from Dorothea for when to sit, stand, or kneel. The sermon hadn’t caught her attention, but she instead glanced around the building, taking in the architecture. The stained glass windows greeted her with images of different saints. Dorothea took her hand, hiding them with her knit sweater. Constance could see Dorothea trying to gauge her reaction, but she refused to make eye contact, knowing that her cheeks were flushed.

There was nothing about Dorothea that she didn’t know… except for this. Every time she came over to watch shows or do homework, Dorothea would talk about anything and everything under the sun. She was never shy, except for mass. Constance didn’t know about how she whispered the prayers, sang the hymns as if her life depended on it, wore the silver cross around her neck. Dorothea had mentioned before that she didn’t believe in anything but the motions. She believed in the reverence of the building and the community that gathered each week.

She was either a wonderful actress or a terrible liar.

“I want to show Constance where the choir sings,” she said as the last notes of the closing hymn. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Mary said, smiling at the two girls. “Harold and I wanted to speak to the father about next week’s food drive, were you planning on helping?”

“Yes, you can put my name down.” Dorothea turned to Constance. “Shall we go?”

“We shall,” Constance spoke the first words since mass began. She couldn’t say she recalled any of it apart from the girl standing in front of her. She followed Dorothea as they weaved through the congregation and arrived at a small door at the back of the church. They ducked into it, climbing a set of extremely narrow stairs

“I saw the pianist leave, but I wanted to show you. Sometimes I sing for the mass, and in my opinion the church looks the prettiest from up here,” Dorothea explained as they worked their way to the top. “It’s like a little nest.”

From the balcony, Constance could see the whole church. The lingering parishioners seated in the pews looked small, some chatting in a group by the priest. It was easy to pick out where a kneeler was left down, or one of the hymnals that didn’t make their way back into the holder. “It’s pretty from up here,” Constance said.

“I’m sorry to drag you to this.”

“I invited myself,” Constance assured, watching as Dorothea flicked through some of the music sheets on the piano. Her heart was pounding and she knew what she wanted to say. It was on the tip of her tongue, but the doubts plagued her. What if Dorothea didn’t see her as any more than a friend? If she only wanted two partners, not three? Would she be okay with the crush that was growing as they went through the practices, the one she had on their captain?

“It looks like they’re finishing up,” Dorothea said, heading back towards the stairwell that they had climbed up. They ducked into it, but Constance grabbed her hand before they could turn the corner that opened up to the church. Dorothea looked surprised, but turned to her with a gentle smile and a “yes?”

“You’re lovely,” Constance managed, but it wasn’t what she wanted to say. She was worried about rejection. But, her friend looked beautiful bathed in the light reflected from the stained glass. Her green eyes shined bright and even in a place that was attempting to suffocate her, she still stood as herself. “Can I kiss you?”

Dorothea took her hands. “Of course, Darling.”

Constance kissed her best friend and all of her fears dissolved. 

*

“I will be having the purple,” Petra plucked the golf ball up, while attempting to roll up the sleeves of Ferdinand’s sweatshirt that was hanging off of her. “Caspar?”

“Blue,” he called, tossing the ball in the air and catching it. They were standing at the small window at the local mini golf course, the teenager looking annoyed that they wanted to play the week that the season was ending. Caspar had packed into the car with Ferdinand, Bernie, Petra, and Linhardt, bidding farewell to the rest of the team after breakfast. While Constance and Dorothea had  _ church  _ (confusing? Yes, but he didn’t ask.), Hubert had needed some space from Ferdinand following the arguments for breakfast. They had invited Flayn, but Seteth decided homework was more important than team bonding.

Caspar joined the others who had already gotten their balls and clubs, looking out at the fun-themed holes.

“It is having such… smallness,” Petra said. “Do you not hit it hard?”

“No, it is all putting. If you hit it hard, someone is going to get hit in the face,” Linhardt said. It was surprising that he had come along, but Caspar was pretty sure Constance was supposed to be his ride, but she left while he was asleep. So instead, he was loaded into the car with the rest of them.

“You want to get the lowest number!” Ferdinand continued. “I, myself, play a lot of golf with my father. I will not be going down so easily!”

Caspar rolled his eyes at Ferdinand sweeping his arm through the air as if the half-assed mini golf course was a battlefield. Bernie ducked under his arm, avoiding getting hit in the face. She, like Petra, was wearing one of Ferdinand’s sweatshirts, with VON AEGIR plastered on the back of it. He wished he had brought one of his own sweatshirts for her to wear… at the very least it would have fit her better. Yeah, that was it. That must have been why he wanted to have his sweatshirt on hand.

“Who will go first?” Linhardt yawned. He put his ball on the first green and putt it without waiting for an answer, getting a hole in one. “I’m not keeping track of the score.”

“What the—”

“I will be doing the same!” Ferdinand hopped up next, his voice bellowing and echoing all the way to the parking lot. Caspar winced. He attempted the same feat, but the ball didn’t quite reach the hole, falling short.

“Wonderful job,” Linhardt commended.

“It was just the breeze,” Ferdinand said and Caspar was considering walking away from the course before realizing how  _ funny  _ it would be to beat his teammate at his own game. They had been playing together on the volleyball team since Caspar was a freshman, and although he could be… well  _ Ferdinand  _ at times… he was still a good person to hang around.

“Yeah, right,” Caspar said. “Bernie, you’re up.”

“Oh, uh.” She crouched down, placing the ball on the green. He really hoped that she would find mini golf much more relaxing of a sport than volleyball, especially since there was no threat of getting hit by a ball. He putt got her surprisingly closer to the first hole than Ferdinand’s had.

Petra then knocked his ball even  _ further  _ away from the hole.

“My apologies, Ferdinand,” she said as he continued to sulk more and more.

Caspar also got a hole in one, taking it upon himself to keep track of the scores for the group. They were the only ones on the course, birds still chirping as they greeted the new day. Bernie stayed by his side, laughing quietly to herself as Linhardt continued to deliver. He was glad that she was growing comfortable with the team—it had been surprising when she said “yes” to the sleepover at all.

“Why is Ferdinand having difficulties?” Petra asked as his putt nearly spiraled into the water trap. “I am not having the same hardness.”

Caspar failed at keeping in his laughter, earning a glare from Ferdinand that was shockingly close to one of Hubert’s.

“It is not funny to make fun of people’s downfalls,” he insisted. “All morning, Hubert harassed me about cooking, and now this.”

“Hey,” Caspar said, crossing his arms, “my dude. No one would make fun of you if you didn’t act like you’re better than everyone right off the bat.” Bernie shrunk behind him a bit with the confrontation, but Caspar wasn’t planning to fight. There was no need to dwell on it. “You’re doing fine, just relax. It’s mini golf.”

“You need to stop trying to prove your worth over dumb games,” Linhardt added, putting and watching the ball bounce off a sharp corner… then a rock… then perfectly into the hole. “Most of us are here for fun… I’m not quite sure why I’m here.”

“Because Constance left you?” Petra offered.

“Because Constance left me,” Linhardt repeated and Caspar face-palmed. “I’m not good at volleyball, but I don’t  _ pretend  _ I am. Just be honest with yourself and others.”

The advice left Ferdinand stuttering as they moved onto yet another hole, just throwing jabs at each other throughout. It wasn’t mean-spirited by any means without the usual offenders present, but Caspar felt bad for Ferdinand. He hadn’t meant to be rude to him, but his usual demeanor was long gone.

So Caspar putt his own ball straight into the fountain water trap.

“Fuck,” he whispered while Petra was puzzled, watching him clearly not to stay on the green.

“You were having purpose—”

“Shhhh,” he hushed her, before announcing. “I’m the first to get in a hazard, minus one for Caspar! Bernie, hold the scorecard.”

“Okay?” She took it, but pointed towards the window where they had paid for the game. “We can ask them if they have a net?”

“Nah, I’ll just get it.” He also handed her his club before kicking off his shoes and taking his socks off. He rolled up his sweatpants and headed towards the water.

“Caspar,” Linhardt said, sitting on a rock because standing for the time it took for everyone to catch up to him was too long, “you can just get a new ball at the front.”

“I don’t want to be a pain in the ass.” He shrugged, taking a step into the water. It was more slimy than he expected, a thin layer of god-knows-what on top of the surface. The bottom of the fountain was slippery, so he shuffled his feet, hoping that nothing living was lurking in the water.

“Caspar,” Ferdinand spoke up, watching him as he made it to the middle of the fountain, “I don’t think this is the best idea, you could get hurt.”

“Nah, I got it,” he waved him off, squinting at the water. It was difficult to find the bright blue ball when it was in a body of water that was dyed teal for aesthetic reasons. Finally, he spotted it next to about four other balls and plucked it from the water.

“It looks… bad,” Petra said as she skimmed the water with her club, water that had probably been sitting stagnant since the beginning of the summer.

“Linhardt, I got it!” he called out, tossing the ball underhand to his teammate on the rock. “Catch!”

Linhardt  _ did not _ catch the ball.

He watched in horror as it hit right below his eye, the boy bringing his hand up to his face. Caspar’s eyes widened and he lurched forward, trying to make sure his friend was okay on the shore. His foot landed right on a different golf ball, and he felt himself get thrown down into the water with a beautiful, miraculous splash.

“Oh my god,” Ferdinand said as Caspar cursed, feeling the water  _ all over his  _ body. It was already unpleasant enough just up to his calves, but being immersed was… bad. That was the only word he could think of using to describe it. “Linhardt, are you okay?”

“I got hit in the  _ face  _ with a  _ golf ball _ , Ferdinand,” he said, his usual condescending and bored tone turning into a solely-condescending one. As Caspar stood carefully, the cold, fall air hitting him like needles pricking his arms, Petra and Ferdinand flocked to Linhardt, making sure that he was okay.

Caspar waded out of the water, stepping back onto the course as Bernie appeared at his side, eyes wide. “Are you okay?”

“Better than our friend,” he said. Linhardt at the very least didn’t appear to be in too much pain, but a red mark under his eye marred his face. He was relieved that it didn’t break the skin.

“You will be having a black eye, I think,” Petra said.

“Lovely, just lovely.”

“Do you want Ferdinand’s sweatshirt?” Bernie asked him, a warm hand on his wrist. “Your teeth are chattering.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” He tried to shake the water off of him, probably looking like a wet dog, before wringing out the bottom of his sweatpants. He wondered if Ferdinand would even let him back into his car.

“You’re always doing things to cheer people up,” Bernie said, attempting to help him wring out his shirt.

“I wouldn’t touch it if I were you, the water was  _ slimy _ ,” he frowned, blushing as she lifted his shirt up a bit from his body to get the water off.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, not looking him in the eyes. “You’re a good friend, Caspar.”

“Even if I hit Linhardt in the face with a golf ball?”

“He wasn’t paying attention, I can’t say it was just your fault,” Bernie said with a laugh. It was sweet in Caspar’s ears, and surprising that she would speak against one of her teammates. “You know, I was hoping—”

“Hey!”

All five of them turned when they heard yelling, the worker from the counter storming onto the course.

“Get the  _ fuck  _ out!”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like this chapter, a lot. Sorry for the delay!


	8. Game Two

There was a knock on the bathroom, “it’s Byleth! Am I good to enter?”

“Of course!” Dorothea urged, their coach opening the door.

“Don’t say ‘of course’ then not have a shirt on,” Byleth mumbled, adverting their eyes away from Dorothea, who had her shirt still in her hand. The best they had managed in terms of a gender neutral bathroom was putting a sign on the second floor women’s bathroom, claiming it for their team for thirty minutes after the bell rang. Petra was still unsure why the administration seemed reluctant to have the teammates in the same locker room, but she was glad that they could at least designate their own area so Bernie wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. “I have a surprise for everyone,” they managed, despite not trusting enough to look up from the big box they were carrying.

“Are you needing help?” Petra asked, as her coach let the box slam against the tile. “It is having weight.”

“It’s fine, I got it in,” Byleth spared a glance upwards, satisfied when they saw a fully-clothed Dorothea. “So, your shirts aren’t the greatest.”

“Edelgard put a lot of effort into making them,” Hubert assured. Petra agreed that the  _ heart  _ was there… just not the skill or fashion. They had been wearing them to their past several games, but the homemade shirts stood out harshly against the uniforms the other schools had worn. They weren’t necessarily an intimidating presence on the court.

“I’m sure she did,” Byleth nodded to the captain, “but I have something better.”

They opened the box to a set of neatly folded uniforms. They lifted the first shirt off of the top. It was black with red details, a white 30 on the front. When they turned it, there was another 30, with “VON AEGIR” written on the top.

“Coach…” he was nearly speechless for once as he was handed the black t-shirt with matching shorts. “These are pretty expensive, the fabric is nice.”

“I was able to pull some favors,” they promised, “no offense, but I wouldn’t go bankrupt on you. A friend of mine was looking to open their own printing place, so he used our uniforms as a practice run. Now, I was in conversation with our captain,” Byleth said as they continued to pass out the shirts: Hubert was 17, Dorothea 29, Bernie 12, “we decided for our team to be named the Garreg Mach Black Eagles. An eagle symbolizes inspiration and freedom. It has ties to pride and victory… I thought it would be fitting for our little team, as did Edelgard. While I cannot say we are close to winning, I’ve seen unbelievable growth from each one of you.”

Petra received her shirt, the “MACNEARY” accompanied by the number 7. She wondered if the coach had assigned numbers by their birthdays, it was a different one from the one that Edelgard had randomly assigned. “You are having my gratitude.”

“This is a lot,” Constance said, taking her shirt, now assigned 20, “Coach… what have we done to deserve this?”

“Worked hard with one another,” they hummed. They handed a number 11 shirt to Linhardt. “…why does Linhardt have black eye?”

“An incident,” Caspar provided, “mini-golf related.”

“Okay…?” Byleth trailed off, clearly unimpressed with the answer, tossing Caspar a shirt emblazoned with 1. “Well, thank the goddess it wasn’t Flayn.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Linhardt crossed his arms, but even he looked interested in the change of uniforms.

“Flayn gets number 6,” they said, tossing it over Petra’s head and to the owner’s hands. Flayn practically squealed at the shirt, and it felt warm in Petra’s hands. Byleth raised the final shirt for all to see, a brilliant crimson color: number 22 “VON HRESVELG.” “And the final shirt is for our libero and captain, Edelgard. This month has been…  _ testing  _ at times,” the coach was careful with their words, “but there has been such a shift in attitudes. I’m proud of all of you for having each other’s backs… even if Linhardt is getting hit in the eye with a golf ball? A golf  _ club _ ?”

“It was just a ball,” Caspar clarified, helpfully.

“ _ Just _ ?”

“Okay, I’m going to leave, all of you get changed,” Byleth waved Linhardt’s insult off, folding up the now-empty box. Petra noticed their shirt for the first time, the emblem on it was that of an eagle, “COACH EISNER” written in clear letters. She was glad that they had chosen to be a part of their group, regardless of how rag-tag it was.

Petra changed quickly into the uniform, slipping on the kneepads and long sleeved shirt with padding that Edelgard had lent her. As she got better at receiving tricky serves, Edelgard had decided it would be better safe than sorry to outfit her with proper equipment. The two girls would spend all practice getting bruised by the gym floor. Petra didn’t mind: she knew it was hard for her to be of any use jumping for the ball, the least she could do for her team was slide along the court, giving them the chance they deserved to win a point. Her captain was proud of her progress, and it made her want to work even harder.

“Petra, ride with me and Con today,” Dorothea urged, pulling her by the hand towards the parking lot. Coach had yelled that they would be late, so they all grabbed their bags in a hurry. “How is training with Edie going?”

“I am having fun,” Petra said. “How is the gymnasium with Hubert?”

“ _ Terrible _ , but he promised to start learning Hamlet lines with me,” Dorothea said with a laugh, tossing Constance her keys to unlock the car. “My legs hurt like a bitch.”

“She’s been getting better,” Constance provided, “I’ve never heard her so quiet.”

“Con, don’t be terrible.” She leaned in and kissed her cheek, a development that Petra had heard about from Dorothea over the weekend. She was taking off her earrings, necklaces, and rings, stacking them in the cup holder. She had gotten in trouble at the scrimmage earlier in the week for playing with jewelry in, so it was nice to see Dorothea actively following the rules.

Somehow, the rest of the team had beat them to the school they were facing, so Dorothea, Constance, and Petra had to nearly sprint to the front of the building. Byleth just checked them off of their clipboard and motioned all of them into the gym.

Petra could hear the team warming up, the sound of volleyballs bouncing off of the court echoed from the hallway. The coach let them know that instead of another varsity team, this was only a JV team. Even so, this school was known for their much more  _ competitive  _ sports teams, so they had told the team—specifically making eye contact with Ferdinand—not to underestimate them.

“Okay, remember how practice went this week?” Byleth asked as they all got into a huddle of sorts, checking their notes. “We have the first serve, I want Ferdinand taking it. We want to ride this momentum as long as we can, keep him in the position. Petra and Flayn will round out the back line. Once Petra gets to serve, expect Flayn to be rotated out for Edelgard. The front will be Caspar, Constance, and Hubert.

“Dorothea, Linhardt, and Bernie,” they continue, turning to where the three were together, “this game I’m aiming to keep your substitution in for a reasonable amount of time. I know Linhardt and Dorothea have been working at the net, and Bernie—all I want from you is no crying. You’ll be substituting in for Constance, Caspar, and Flayn when the time comes.” They tucked their clipboard under their arm. “Any questions?”

“Why am I in the starting rotation?” Constance asked with a frown.

“Because you are having growth!” Petra offered, earning a thumbs up from Dorothea.

“What Petra said,” Byleth pointed a finger in her direction, “Constance, you’ve been getting much better at receiving and second-touches, but you’ve also been relying heavily on Edelgard and Dorothea. This will give you a chance to work with the others.”

“Okay,” Constance said, but Petra couldn’t help but notice that she seemed deflated by the comment.

“Now, let’s get going, Black Eagles,” Byleth said, with a small smile on their lips, “kick some ass.”

*

“Coach,” Dorothea sang, crouching next to them, “are you sure Bernie has to go in today? It’s still all really new to her…”

Bernie attempted to tune out the rest of the favor for her own sake, shrinking further into herself on the bench. She had thought she would be ready after sitting out the previous game, but now she was having her doubts. They were so close to winning the set, and she knew she would find a way to mess it up if she was in the game. Dorothea had seen her reservations and agreed in hushed whispers to ask the coach.

“It’s not that big of a deal, Bernie,” Linhard said, leaning back into the bleachers as if he could fall asleep in his uncomfortable position. “ _ I _ also want nothing to do with this game—I even pleaded injury.” He motioned to his eye, still a sickly combination of fading purple and sickly yellow. “No one is expecting you to even hit the ball, you will be fine.”

“But—”

“Bernie, usually I would listen to your request,” Byleth said in a gentle voice, turning to her, “but I really think you’re ready. Although I wouldn’t say it as  _ sarcastically  _ as Linhardt—” they shot the boy a glare “—I’m not asking you to hit the ball. I just want you to be on the court, and Dorothea will be there with you, as well as the rest of your teammates. Have faith in them.”

Bernie was going to continue to argue when Coach called the switch and she was thrown onto the court.

“Hey, Bernie.” Caspar caught her hand as they passed one another. He had a wide smile on his face, giving her hand a squeeze. “You can do this. Just remember to keep an eye on the ball, and it won’t be as scary.”

Bernie wanted to say that it made her stop shaking, but her fingers were still trembling as she took the front line with Dorothea and Hubert. Linhardt was right behind her with Petra, and it was back to Ferdinand’s serve. The other team wasn’t going down  _ easily _ , but somehow the Black Eagles had pulled ahead in points. She had watched Petra and Edelgard become quite the team, and cheered as Constance scored her first point in a game. Caspar played at his usual level of excellence, and Flayn had been providing such a solid support to both Ferdinand and Hubert. She knew that her girlfriend was ready to play hard and even Linhardt was confident in his newfound ability to spike when given the opportunity.

That left her.

Regardless of how much Caspar helped her, she still found the idea of hitting a ball terrifying. It was unpredictable, potentially painful, and being aimed directly at her. She wanted nothing to do with it, but her teammates kept her coming back to each practice. It was strange, really, after so many years of being alone and then simply opening up to Dorothea… but now she wanted to be a part of a group. Even if they were loud and scary at times, she knew that it was all in jest and they never meant to hurt one another.

The whistle blew and she jumped, turning away from the net to watch as Ferdinand backed up for a serve. The first rotation, he had done an impeccable job of serving—the opponents rarely able to get their hand on the ball if they even did at all. Byleth had whispered something about him being their ace, but she wasn’t quite sure what it insinuated… other than he was good. He would drum the ball against the court, far away from the line before throwing it high in the air and running forward, jumping up and connecting with the ball. He had tried more than once to teach Dorothea, but she was never able to get the timing correct.

Bernie watched as it flew over the net and past the opponents, slamming against the court.

She shook the nerves from her hands, willing them to be still. If Ferdinand continued to serve well, she wouldn’t even need to  _ think  _ about receiving the ball. Dorothea cheered for the point, Petra giving him a thumbs up. Hubert looked less impressed, and Bernie would have been surprised if Linhardt was even paying attention at this point.

The next few points went without a threat of the ball going to a rally, and Bernie allowed herself to unclench her jaw. Dorothea was getting restless next to her, shuffling back and forth on her feet without her usual rings and bracelets to twist. Ferdinand looked like he was growing tired, and it showed when his next serve sailed over the net in a less-sure arc. Bernie watched in horror as the back row got the ball back into the air, the middle blocker setting it, and a spike coming in their direction.

“Mine!” Petra yelled, nearly pushing Linhardt in out of the way as he barely looked up at the incoming spike. She got it into the air and Hubert set the ball, Dorothea jumping into the air to spike it. The hit wasn’t perfect, but Bernie watched as her girlfriend slammed the ball down hard at the opponent, the ball ricocheting off their arm and out of the court. 

Dorothea looked shocked. “I did it?!”

“Dorothea has did it!” Petra congratulated, earning a quick hug from her teammate. The ball went back to Ferdinand and Bernie smiled at the beaming girl. She was glad that a bit of her vibrancy had returned. The two of them had been on a  _ long  _ phone call during the week about her foster situation. Mary and Harold had offered to pay for her college, an offer that had left Dorothea sick to her stomach. Bernie did her best to comfort her, but she had already been overwhelmed with their hospitality given her eighteenth birthday that was in less than a week. Dorothea deserved more security than she ever thought she did, but Bernie could only listen as she rambled about getting an apartment and finishing high school.

“Bernie!” Linhardt called behind her as a ball nearly hit her.

She scrambled out of the way, letting it hit the court. Bernie heard the following whistle and knew she had messed up.

“I—” she gasped, eyes wide, “I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me!”

She hated how the words always found a way to her lips, words tripping out of her mouth as a last defense. There were, however, no fists raised and no threats given. Just a worried smile from Dorothea and a “you’ll get it next time” from Ferdinand.

“Head up, Bernie!” Byleth said from the sideline, looking ever-intimidating with their arms crossed. She was worried that she had upset them; but trusted that they wouldn’t retaliate against her.

“No one will be upset with you if you don’t hit the ball,” Dorothea said in a hushed tone as they all got ready for their opponents to serve.

It was Linhardt this time who received it, the ball rising above Bernie’s head. She froze, knowing that at some point it would _ have to come down _ .

She took a deep breath, Caspar’s instructions to keep her eye on it echoing in her head. She waited for it, taking a couple steps back as she realized it was getting closer to her. She had to let it fall to her arms, so she adjusted.

Eyes closed at the last second, she felt it hit her arms—a quick kiss before bounding off.

Bernie could hear someone else hit it, and cheers from Dorothea as it hit the gym floor. “Holy  _ shit _ , Bernie! You did it!”

Dorothea tackled her into a hug and Bernie laughed nervously, opening her eyes back up to the dim lights. It had stung a bit, but not any more than it had after a month of practice. She locked eyes with Caspar, who had leapt to his feet, and Coach who was smiling at her. They rotated, Bernie moving to the back line as Petra took up the serve. Byleth called for a substitution, and Edelgard stepped forward to take Linhardt’s position.

Her crimson uniform stood out from the black attire the rest had on, fitting for the captain. The other team seemed to falter as she walked onto the court, tossing her ponytail back from her shoulders. Edelgard was… for lack of better words,  _ amazing _ . Dorothea blew her a kiss, and Bernie did her best to ignore the small bite of jealousy that was growing in her stomach. Her girlfriend deserved such vibrant and self-reliant partners. Ones that succeeded and never backed away from a challenge.

Bernie didn’t have to play much of the set after that. Since she was in the back row next to Edelgard, the captain covered nearly all the receives, except for the ones that dropped too close to the net. She would throw herself at the ball with such vigor, maneuvering and anticipating, leaving no room for the other team to make a mistake. Once she had it up in the air, Hubert would set the ball—sending it straight to Ferdinand and occasionally Dorothea. Petra continued to serve, playing it safe with a strong underhand rather than attempting the jump-serves that the co-captain had been drilling with her.

She wanted to be part of the team.

Bernie felt the feeling creeping in, the similar one that was following her when Dorothea spent the night with Constance and Dorothea… or when Caspar would work on drills with Flayn all practice. Or even when Coach would focus on the others.

She didn’t want to be left behind. Bernie  _ knew  _ that she could go back to hiding in her room all day, away from her father who didn’t care and away from the words that would burn her, but she didn’t feel the need to. It felt better to stretch her wings.

“Good job in the game, Bernie,” Edelgard caught her as they were walking off of the court. They were being subbed out at the same time, the captain coming in and out as per libero rules. The set was theirs for the taking, and excitement rattled on the court.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You hit the ball,” Edelgard said with a little laugh. “I was… tough on you the first few weeks.” Her voice turned serious, nearly scolding. “That one hit is more than you have done in a game, and that’s something to be proud of. Don’t spend all your time looking at everyone else, okay?”

Bernie felt a swell hit her chest as the others took up their positions on the court. “Th-thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! My name is Molls and I write (mostly) sapphic polyam content!
> 
> If you enjoyed please consider following [my fandom twitter](https://twitter.com/writingwithmoll) and [my personal twitter](https://twitter.com/mollyswiencki) where I write sapphic polyam novels!
> 
> Thank you for the support <3


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